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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663467">The luck they made</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tacoapocalypse3847848/pseuds/Tacoapocalypse3847848'>Tacoapocalypse3847848</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US), gallavich- fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Carl Franny and Liam are like Gallavich’s kids in this, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Debbie is in jail, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frank’s in the alley for this one, Gallavich, Homophobia, Hurt! Ian Gallagher, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Ian, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Medical Inaccuracies, Only if you squint though - Freeform, Parents Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Psychological Torture, Temporary Amnesia, Terry Milkovich - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Torture, bottom! Ian, read trigger warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:47:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>54,979</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663467</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tacoapocalypse3847848/pseuds/Tacoapocalypse3847848</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set six months post season 10, Ian and Mickey think the worst if their troubles is a cranky Liam, troubled Carl, and taking care if Franny. Until Terry comes back and takes matters into his own hands.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carl Gallagher &amp; Ian Gallagher, Debbie Gallagher/Sandy Milkovich, Ian Gallagher &amp; Iggy Milkovich, Ian Gallagher &amp; Lip Gallagher, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Kev Ball/Veronica Fisher, Mickey Milkovich &amp; The Gallaghers, Terry Milkovich &amp; The Milkoviches</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>226</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Inciting incident</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If theres anys breaks left- ignore them :) chapter 2 should be coming soon!<br/>im going to start naming chapters after sing titles that give a Gallavich feel, so comment any below.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter one-<br/>Reminder- PLEASE READ trigger warnings; Bipolar, fighting, prescription-medicine, alcohol, thoughts that could be construed as suicidal or depressed, refusing/changing medication without doctor’s consent, blood. Cholorfoam, handcuffs, custody, familial issues, cursing, anxiety, kidnapping, torture, homophobia.</p><p>The sun shining through the slats in between the blinds of Mickey and Ian’s room, which used to be practically every Gallagher’s room at some point, was so annoyingly bleeding at this early, that Mickey was tempted to shoot it to sleep for another few minutes. An annoying fabric brushes against his side as a weight next to him shifts and grunts; Ian.</p><p>As always, Ian’s hand was laced with his own. Starting mainly after prison, Ian couldn’t sleep unless his hand was clasped in Mickey’s. No matter who was what spoon, no matter where he slept, he always held Mickey’s hand. Sometimes sleeping with the laced hands under his head like a pillow, sometimes, when spooning, holding both Mickey’s hands, sometimes with Mickey’s hand to his lips, and sometimes just a simple joining of their hands in between them as they dozed on the couch. Mickey pauses to rub his thumb gently over the freckled and soft hand enclosing his.</p><p>“Ughhh, asleep in your fucking uniform again.” Mickey groans, propping himself on an elbow to glance at his sleeping husband. After begging, pleading, a strong letter of recommendation from Larry Seaver, and a glowing endorsement from Sue herself, the disciplinary at the fire department found it within themselves to re-hire Ian- if he got recertified as an EMT. Ever since his reinstatement, Ian was pulling doubles, and nights shifts, and more doubles to gain some form of favor back in the fire station.</p><p>The redhead had been working himself to the bone and it showed. It showed in the way that he felt like he was slipping in every category like he was juggling too much. Ian had a marriage, Carl and Liam living at home, Franny to take care of (because Debbie is STILL in jail from Julia), a job, dinner to cook, a house to clean, babysitting Freddie for Tami, remembering to take his meds, and trying for at least five hours of sleep on his plate. As a result, Ian was moving through his routine slowly. He is okay, but a hand to guide him through the motions really helped keep him balanced.</p><p>“Jesus freckles.” Mickey mutters, gently cupping his cheeks. The ginger in question’s lips turned up in the ghost of a smile, albeit a tired ghost for sure.</p><p>Glancing at the red LED clock next to their bed that read 7:33, Mickey could almost cry out of frustration at how late it was groan. It was Ian’s one day off, a Tuesday, but Mickey was working at 10:00, Liam had school at 8:15, Franny needed breakfast, and Freddie was supposed to be dropped off by 8:00.</p><p>“Ian.” Mickey calls, gently stroking the younger man’s hair, “C'mon time to get up.”</p><p>Ian’s eyebrows furrow and his nose scrunches, but all he does is nestle further into Mickey's side.</p><p>“Gallagher,” Mickey sings, wiggling a couple of harsh finger on Ian’s ribs and sides over the blue polyester of his uniform, “get up before the masses get here.”</p><p>Ian’s hands fly to bat Mickey’s as he lets out a slew of giggles and the corner of his mouth upturns in a betraying smile. “Mickkk, don’t tickle me.” Ian whines sleepilly through his laughter, burrowing his head into the crook of Mickey’s neck. Mickey can't help but smile at the same giggle that fell out of his now-husbands mouth as when he was fifteen with freckles and much-younger puppy dog eyes when Mickey would grab his hips too hard. Just as adorable at twenty-three, Mickey thinks.</p><p>“It's seven thirty giggles.” Mickey reminds him, lifting his chin with a finger.</p><p>Bright green eyes shine back at Mickey’s, “You're so mean.” Ian mumbles, leaning forward to capture his husband’s lips on his own.</p><p>“‘M serious sleepy-face, up, meds, and get to it.” Mickey teases, peppering the freckled face and neck before him with light-kisses that made Ian smile and giggle, before rolling out of bed himself.</p><p>By the time Mickey brushes his teeth, manages to drag his green-eyed best friend out of bed, make fun of Ian’s bed head while he brushes his teeth, help wrestle Ian into a black long-sleeve t-shirt blue jeans and black socks, and head down the stairs with a slightly-more-cheerful redhead behind him, there's already a full commotion in the kitchen.</p><p>Sandy sits at the counter-top with a beer, a bitchy look on her face, and a black eye. Carl’s practically sleeping in his Lucky Charms. Liam is screaming to Sandy about something, and Sandy looks like she's about to clock him.</p><p>“Oh look it's tttthe dumb ass himmmmmself. You're on our shittt list.” Sandy snarls, wagging a finger between herself and Liam.</p><p>Ian looks up in bewilderment at the scene before him. Liam was more his concern than Sandy, so Ian tackles that first.</p><p>“I'm sorry what did I do?” Ian asks, ruffling Carls’ hair as he crosses towards Liam to give him a hug.</p><p>“Don't touch me!” Liam screams, jolting back.</p><p>“Hey, what's wrong?” Ian questions sympathetically.</p><p>“You promised you'd help me edit my English project if I left it on the table, and then you fell asleep. Now I'm going to fail. I should have just done it myself instead of trusting you because you tested out of English the one time.” Liam shouts, obviously frustrated and cranky.</p><p>“I sorry bud, I didn't get home till eleven last night and I passed right out. Let's do it now.” Ian apologizes.</p><p>“Yeah, didn't even change.” Mickey tells Liam.</p><p>“Now Lip’s coming to get me in ten-minutes and I'm gonna fail. You're the worst. All you do is work these days. You signed the guardianship papers for me. I'm not just a hot-potato that you can pass around.” Liam shouts.</p><p>“Woah, I don't know what side of the bed you woke up on, but you can't talk to your brother like that. He works his ass off to pay for your schooling.” Mickey snaps.</p><p>Liam groans uncharacteristically and moves past Ian to stomp away, but Ian snags an arm around his waist and traps him in place.</p><p>“Hey I'm sorry you feel that way. After you get home from school, we can do something together. I love you kiddo.” Ian tells him, pressing a kiss to his head.</p><p>Liam just shrugs away and rolls his eyes, “I hate you.” he seethes.</p><p>“Jesus Liam, he's trying at least. Fiona left our asses.” Carl interjects, obviously hungover.</p><p>“I'd rather have Frank than him.” Liam deadpans, a far cry from his usual sweet self, before stomping upstairs.</p><p>“Fucking teenagers.” Mickey mutters, rubbing his husband’s shoulders, “He’ll come around soon.”</p><p>“He better, he's been pissy all morning.” Carl chirps, rubbing his temples.</p><p>“What time did you get home last night?” Ian smirks.</p><p>“Who the fuck knows?” Carl mutters as he moves to put a pot of coffee on.</p><p>“The fucks your problem?” Micke snaps at Sandy, who glaring at Ian.</p><p>“Terrys back. Was at the alibi this morning, and said to pass the message along to the ‘carrot-top screwing my son’ and his ‘f*ggy son’.” Sandy deadpans. Both boy’s pulse quicken at that. Terry had laid low ever since Mickey and Ian were forced to fill out an incident report by the love canal and it didn't take more than two brain cells for any detective to figure out who burnt down the Bamboo Lotus.”</p><p>“I don't see how that's Ian’s fault.” Mickey manages, although barely, to keep it together.</p><p>“Always is.” Sandy burps.</p><p>“Who pissed in everyone's Cheerios this morning?” Mickey questions. Ian just shakes his head in exhaustion already.</p><p>Before Ian can even enter, a hurricane, a tornado, and a tropical storm in the form of Tami and Lip arguing and Freddie wailing burst through the door.</p><p>“At least I don't have a dad passed out in an alley and mine CARES.” Tami shouts.</p><p>“Cares so goddamn much he's forcing a handout on us. I want to do things the legal way ourselves Tami, no handouts.” Lip retorts.</p><p>“Far cry coming from someone who roped his fifteen-year-old brother into a grand theft auto crime when he was in the eleventh grade and was kicked out of college for sleeping with a teacher and destroyed a car over it.” Tami returns with vengeance.</p><p>“Least I don't drive a Fiat.” Lip mutters, pulling open the fridge as he strides into the kitchen.</p><p>“Yeah go have a beer.” Tami quips.</p><p>“Getting MILK for our SON because YOU were too busy using mafia money to pay for furniture because the couch I bought working for hours on end wasn't matching with your drapes.” Lip screams back.</p><p>“Knock it bridezilla and bridezilla, you're scaring Freddie.” Mickey scolds, plucking the screaming child from Tami’s arms.</p><p>Without warning, Lip wheels on Ian, “THERE'S NO MILK. I TEXTED YOU LAST NIGHT TO GET MILK FOR HIM TO HAVE FOR THE DAY.”</p><p>Ian glances up sheepishly, “I honestly haven't even looked at my phone since yesterday before work, it's still upstairs.”</p><p>“HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO TRUST YOU WITH MY KID WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN ANSWER A PHONE.” Lip seethes.</p><p>Ian sighs in exhaustion, rubbing his temples, “I'll run out and get it before Mick goes to work.”</p><p>“You taking your meds, zombie?” Lip questions.</p><p>“Woah, he takes them everyday.” Mickey defends, shifting Freddie on his hip, “Back it up Gallagher.”</p><p>“Do you watch him take them/” Lip demands.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Mickey starts.</p><p>“Do you watch him Mickey?’ Lip tries again.</p><p>“No.” Mickey admits.</p><p>“Lip, I take them everyday.” Ian tells him.</p><p>“Don't believe you.” Lip shouts, rifling through the draws i'll he retrieves three orange pill bottles with Ian’s name printed on them in plain font.</p><p>“Ian, how come these aren't even. They all run out at the same time?” Lip demands. Mickey now crosses his arms defensively.</p><p>“I've been so tired and the anti-depressants make it so much worse, so I only take them every other and I take double anti-anxiety to go to sleep.” Ian admits, staring at the floor.</p><p>“You've been screwing with your own dosage?” Mickey explodes.</p><p>“My doctor would have told me the same thing. I'm taking meds.” Ian explains.</p><p>“You're fucking crazy.” Lip mutters.</p><p>There's a beat of silence where everyone waits for Mickey to defend the use of crazy in context to Ian, like usual, but he doesn't</p><p>Instead Carl does after a painful two seconds where his older brother green-eyes fill with tears, “Hey, he's not crazy. Better than waiting six years at the clinic where they'll probably tell him the same thing.”</p><p>“Forgot you had your doctorate trash boy.” Lip mocks.</p><p>“Lip, I'll make an appointment, but I'm fine-” Ian tries.</p><p> </p><p>“No you're not Ian, that's a manic idea.” Mickey pipes up.</p><p>“I'm not manic.” Ian whines, tears shining in his eyes as he struggles to get his point across to his older-brother and husband.</p><p>“Probably are.” Sandy affirms, leaving the room with a burp. Ians head spins, why were all the people he loved being so mean, sans Carl.</p><p>“Give me Fred.” Tami snaps, snatching the infant from Mickey’s arms abruptly, “I don't want him around your batshit crazy brother. He's going to my dad's today.”</p><p>“I'm not crazy.” Ian says, meekly.</p><p>“You're fucking psychotic, clinically. You could have overdosed or collapsed while holding Fred. You're never seeing him again, I'm so done with your crazy family Lip.” Tami screams.</p><p>“Tami doesn't mean that.” Carl tries to plead with Ian, who looked broken at that moment.</p><p>“Yeah she does. Maybe she's right. Be better if I just took my meds and shut up right? Doesn't matter if I was suffering on the dosage I was taking and this was the only way for me to feel okay. Fuck you Tami and Lip. You're supposed to be my big-brother, but you let your wife tell me that.” Ian bursts out.</p><p>“E.” Lip starts, “I just want you to be stable. Just for a little bit it's best if Fred gets watched by someone else.”</p><p>“Ian, I didn't mean that-” Tami starts.</p><p>“Ian, I can't take off, we can go to the clinic-” Mickey tries.</p><p>“You can't all be mad at him at the same time.” Carl shouts.</p><p>“JGDJHHAJB.” Freddie wails at the noise.</p><p>“Shut the fuck up red.” Sandy taunts from the living room.</p><p>“STOP EVERYONE.” Ian screams, trying to drown out the voices of his family that were giving him a pounding headache.</p><p>A tiny gasp and a whimper are heard from the top of the staircase, without even looking Ian knows it's Frannie.</p><p>“Hey, Frannie girl I'm sorry.” Ian starts to the stairs to hug the tiny redhead, but she reaches away from him instead.</p><p>“You're scawee, I want Uncle Mick.” Frannie cries. Mickey scoops her up with an apologetic glance towards his husband.</p><p>That was the final straw for Ian, he slipped on whoever’s shoes were by the back door and flung it open without a second word.</p><p>“Hey Ian, what?” Mickey starts as Ian moves to walk out the door.</p><p>Ian turns around with tears streaming down his cheeks, “Don't worry, I'll be back by ten so you can work. I just need some air.” Ian snaps, with tight emotion lacing his voice.</p><p>“You're just enforcing our knowledge that you're manic.” Tami shouts after him.<br/>------------------------------------------------------<br/>Ian does go for a walk. A long and meaningful one. He passes the Alibi, and Frank in the alley of it, Kash and Grab, the dugouts, the abandoned building where Mickey and Ian would shoot at, a lost dog, a grandma, and a cool breeze.<br/>At about 9:30, when he was making his way back, something started to feel wrong. He was standing in front of a Subway’s, wishing he had his phone, when a pair of strong arms grabbed him from the alleyway. Ian fought. He screamed and kicked, but he was no match for the rag that was stuffed in his mouth. And then it all went black.</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------</p><p>When Ian wakes up. It's black. Too black. He can feel the cold tile floor on the edge of his toes, but his feet aren't fully touching the floor. Instead, he's blindfolded, with his arms hanging from a chain tied to a pipe above him.</p><p>It smells like an actual wet rat in here and he can feel someone’s breath on the back of his neck. Ian tries to squirm, but his current position made it near impossible. A finger traces his body making him shiver and twist to the best of his ability.</p><p>The fingers that dug into his ribcage were nothing like Mickey’s playful ones this morning- these ones meant to scratch and draw blood instead of laughs.</p><p>Ian lets out a squeak of pain at the action and the same cold fingers grip his jaws. A coldly familiar laugh sounds at that and it makes Ian’s blood turn cold- he knows that laugh.</p><p>The owner of the laugh yanks off his blindfold without warning and Ian struggles to adjust to the drastic change in lighting of his scenery. He's in a dimly-lit warehouse that is essentially one big open room. A spotlight behind him illuminates Ian’s body. Pipes above his head rush, but other than that it's silent.</p><p>The cold blue eyes of Terry Milkovich stare into his as his chin is gripped and shoved to look at a flashing red light in front of him- that's when Ian gets it. He's being filmed. He's on Terry Milkovich’s stage and at his mercy.</p><p>“Say hello to Mickey.” Terry drawls.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Ian Is Late Late Late</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chapter 2</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 2! Sorry it takes me so long to update, I'm writing a novel as well! Please refer to ch1 s trigger warning before continuing. Sorry for any spelling mistakes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter 2</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey Milkovich was pissed. For Mickey, this was status quo, however what was abnormal was how pissed he was at his husband. Mickey wasn't exactly proud of his behavior this morning, but that didn't warrant Ian disappearing like this. No matter how mad they got at each other, the pair was always supposed to put Carl, Liam, and Franny in front of whatever argument they had. Otherwise, were they any better than their parents?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey had to call out to his job at the tattoo parlor, cancelling on valued clients, and forfeiting an entire day's worth of tips. All because Ian’s coping skills were limited to the silent treatment and self medication. Fuck that, Mickey thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fucker had promised to take Franny to the park, and have a tea party, and watch god damn Moana. All of these chores were left u to Mickey to fulfill the promises that his husband had made to their young charge, and Mickey swears on his last pack of cigarettes that if Ian spent the day moping into a beer he's going to murder the fucker himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By dinner time, Mickey’s anger is starting to perfectly blend with his hunger, making him hangry. Add the fact that he is genuinely starting to get worried about his ginger best friend and he finds himself coloring a princess coloring book so hard that Franny has to start chastising him for breaking so many crayons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey obsessively checks his phone for the million and fifth time that day and contemplates sending his 89th angry call of the day. The situation felt eerily familiar to Mickey and he found himself pleading, Milkoviches don't beg, via text for his husband to at least notify him of his whereabouts. However, Mickey knew in his heart that Ian wouldn't do that. He wouldn't run away. They had worked too hard at building a life together, had too many people depending on them, friends from work that Mickey didn't hate being around on a Friday night with Ian, they had their schedules synched together on their phones for crying out loud, regular sex, PTA meetings, the rest of Bojack Horseman to watch, Ian’s favorite kind of weed from his favorite dealer rolled into two joints for their Sunday morning cuddles, Sunday morning cuddles to look forward too, and roots. Actual physical roots in the form of a fucking vegetable garden that Ian had planted with Franny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They still hadn't done too many things together, they were too stable for Ian to bolt. Besides, the guy couldn't fall asleep without holding Mickey’s hand. What are the odds that he picks up and starts a new life? Mickey feels guilty for even doubting his husband’s faith in him, but that's where his mind automatically goes. Coupled with the skipping meds, these notions only increase Mickey’s impending sense of doom. Where the fuck else could he be?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless, Mickey just wanted that fucker to walk through the door so that he could punch him square in his beautiful face and take him to bed. Feel Ian’s strong arms wrapped around him and fall asleep listening to that steady heartbeat. Ian was equivalent to steady and calm in Mickey’s mind. He reassures himself again and again that the sweet boy who was letting out the most angelic giggled in the sunlight this morning deserved Mickey to have a little faith in him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the time being, he's just left with a lock screen of Ian in the sun, millions of freckles that complimented his emerald green eyes as a small smirk pulled at Ian’s lips. Those dark eyelashes fluttering over his eyes in the picture to make him look like an angel when he was sitting in the passenger seat of Tami’s car that they stole for Franny’s soccer game. Mickey doesn't even remember if Ian was aware he snapped the picture, and Mickey was by no means sentimental, but seeing how Ian’s red hair seemed to glisten like the sun- Mickey just HAD to snap a quick picture. Even his favorite candid of Ian doesn't assuage how cold and empty his phone is as his notifications remain blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl was angry, but for a different reason. Secretly, Ian had always been Carl's favorite. Carl craved the easy and loving approval that Ian would give everyone unconditionally. He was as loyal as a puppy and really stepped up when Fiona left. Even though Carl was too old for Ian to assume guardianship of him the way he had with Liam, Ian still made every effort to make Carl feel just as protected and loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl had always found himself following in every footstep Ian had, and taking it a little farther. Ian wanted to join the army, Carl did too. Ian was into exercising and running, Carl was too. Ian went to jail for the first time at fifteen when the Jimmy-Steve car fiasco went down, Carl went to juvie at eighteen. Ian wanted to walk the straight and narrow after becoming a legitimate felon, the signature Gallagher move, Carl wanted to take it a step further and become a cop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian never seemed to mind this “copying” the way that Debbie or even Lip would have. He was so happy that Carl was doing well and made sure to remind him often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl loved Fiona, but she was turning out to be more like Monica than Ian did. Fiona kept him alive selflessly, but she left him. Carl was endlessly happy for her and the way that she got out and is doing good, but he missed his sister and it felt like a hole was missing. One that Ian and Mickey were both trying very hard to fill in the best way that two gay, ex-convicted felons, from the Southside could fill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl loved LIp, but Lip always needed to have these expectations for Carl. Not to blow up a cat or set fire to the hippie neighbor's she-shed. After the coke incident with Liam, Lip transformed from a fun older brother to a Fiona. Not that Carl wasn't eternally grateful for  how Lip and Fiona took care of him, and he knew he would be dead without either of them. However, Carl wanted someone to prioritize his nightmares at age twelve over the bills for ten-seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Debbie was the closest thing he had to a twin. He loved Debbie to death, but it was the kind of love that grew stronger when they were apart. Like Carl loved and missed Debbie because she's in jail, but he knows the second she comes back they’ll be back to competing over girls, or the remote. Sometimes with a Gallagher, love grows stronger from a distance. Also, the chance that you won't get strangled by a family member grows with distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl was pissed at the way that they treated Ian, and by dinnertime he was ready to throw his beer at Mickey, who seemed completely and utterly unbothered as he colored with Franny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lip felt hollow and disgusted at himself. The look on his little brother’s face as he toed on Carl’s black high top Converse on the way out the door was heart wrenching. Where did his Ian go? The sweet freckled kid with bangs and sharp canine teeth. The one that was such a good hugger than Fiona and him used to fight over whose bed Ian would sleep in when Frank and Monica were gone. The one who didn't cry because of the monsters under the bed, instead for fear of his father hitting him for looking like his mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once upon a time he had asked Ian if he had ever let Ian down. Ian, loyal as a dog of course, had told him no. Now, Lip had definitely gone and disappointed the living embodiment of a red-labrador.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had dragged his frustration on being sober, and Tami being bitchy, and Fred teething out on those sweet freckles without even thinking. Now Ian could name a single time that Lip had let him down, and Lip felt like he lost himself more than he lost little Ian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching dejectedly as Mickey colored with Franny with an Old Style in one hand, Carl seethed in the corner (always Lip’s subtlest younger sibling) in Mickey’s direction, passive-aggressively sipping on the same beer. Liam sat by Franny and Mickey, asking Mickey for help with a math problem every now and again. Apparently, where Mickey lacked in social etiquette, he made up for it in critical thinking. If Mickey had actually tried in school, he might have given Lip a run for his money.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing up at his girlfriend? Baby momma? Sponsor’s sister-in-law? Relationship unclear at the moment, but she bounces Freddie by the front window, looking anxiously out of it every now and again. Lip thinks that even Tami must feel bad about how she spoke to Ian. Fuck why did they all have to gang up on Ian? Everyone else in the house gives two shits about the people they love’s opinions, but Ian was different. He always had been. Crying when someone stepped on a bug, tearing up at the Lorax, and being the only sibling that even remotely cared when Monica died. Ian loved with his heart wide open and both feet on the floor, and Lip has grown to admire that about his younger brother over the years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would make a really good parent,and he already has as he steps into an awkward role of a temporary guardian/guardian with Liam, Franny, and even Carl seemed to fall into the umbrella of awkwardness that was the Gallagher-Milkovich, Gallagher, Milkovich household. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Sandy walks in the door, belching, and complaining as she kicks her boots against the wall with little regard for the mud on the bottom of them hitting the floor (for the forecord, Fiona would have had their asses if she saw that), he is reminded of the fucked up gravity that seemed to draw the Gallaghers and Milkoviches together. Frank and Terry could shack up together and it wouldn't surprise him at this point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sudden knock at the door drags everyone out of their bad mood as the atmosphere in the room actually sighs with relief of tension. Mickey’s face gets some color back in it, Carl smiles in relief, Tammi’s nervous fidgeting ceases, and even Franny seems excited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uncle Iann.” she cheers with a slight smile, having already forgotten about seeing Ian yell this morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey tried to hide his excitement as he jogged, not jogging a MIlkovich would never, to the door, but a smile betrayed his poker face anyways. He couldn't help it, he was just filled with the anticipation of seeing the warm ginger giant no matter how upset he was with him for being gone so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the rush of excitement and relief everyone had forgotten that Ian never knocks. Ian knows the back door is seldom locked during the day when everyone is awake and around because Frank stopped coming around after his last ponzi-scheme. He just let's himself in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of opening the door to his husband, Mickey opens the door to a skinny and wiry kid in between Carl and Ian’s age. dressed in blue jeans and a blue hoodie. He carried a black briefcase that Mickey would have made fun of someone for carrying because it looked like a tech-y man purse. The stark contradiction between the red that Mickey was expected juxtaposed with this blue moron is enough to set every one of Mickey’s nerves on fire with worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a general rule of thumb, the Milkovich’s, Gallagher, Gallagher-Milkoviches, and Milkovich-Gallaghers have a shaky relationship with random strangers showing up at the door. As much as they loved each other, they were the quickest to deny someone lived in the house. However, he was too shady to be CPS, not formal enough to be a cop, and not ginger enough to be Ian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the fuck are you?” Mickey questions, crossing his arms over his chest and finding his fingers itching for the bat he didn't anticipate having to use. The gentle chatter in the house stopped as they heard Mickey’s snarl at the stranger who was not Ian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, the stranger forces the briefcase into Mickey’s arms and mutters, “watch it quick” before turning on a heel and sprinting away the way that Mickey himself usually sprints from any law enforcement (besides Carl because Carl couldn't even get Franny to bed by 8:30).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who was that?” Lip calls front the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the fuck knows.” Mickey sighs, resigning to the fact that he now had a briefcase which was undoubtedly a part of one of Frank’s schemes gone wrong. He wants to chuck it before he gets his finger prints on some murder weapon, but something in him says not to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the chatter from his family, yes his family, Mickey plops on the horizontal couch that was facing the television. As The Simpsons played, he gingerly opened the tech-y briefcase, hoping to god it wasn't a bomb because that would be so inconvenient right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A black sleek and cheap-looking laptop with a charger bundled up on top are inside the laptop and Mickey resists the urge to get frustrated and chuck it at a wall, because something about it feels important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liam, help me plug this damn thing in, will ya! Mickey calls to the kitchen. Liam pads out in oversized pajama pants that were probably every Gallaghers before him. Ian had wanted to work on buying Liam a wardrobe of his own, but the boy was constantly growing and buying him clothes felt like playing whack-a-mole, and it was useless when they had an entire wardrobe from his older siblings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah Mickey? Liam asks. In response, Mickey points to the laptop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What's tha-” Mickey cuts Liam off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know either, help me find out.” Mickey grumbles. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew that it was probably an innovative scheme or a prank, but he couldn't shake why he woulndt listen to his own brain's rationale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liam slipped next to him after plugging in the laptop, snuggling into Mickey’s side with a tired yawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kids these days.” Mickey mutters, as he throws an arm around his young brother-in-law that was actually his charge as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the laptop turned on, Mickey opened it up to see a yellow post-it with the phrase “Watch me :)” scribbled on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The commotion started to attract the Gallaghers and Milkovich in the kitchen, who were magnets for drama, and everyone started to crowd around Mickey, taking bets on what was on the laptop as it loaded up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey started to get annoyed by the sheer amount of people in his face. He wanted them to all back up and he wanted to be in Ian’s arms. Wanting a hug from his husband didn't make him a bitch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably frank in a clown mask or some-” Lip’s voice drops, as they all do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tami shrieks, Franny is shushed by Sandy as she draws her into her arms, but Sandy’s aown pupils blow with shock and she can't take them away from the screen. Carl’s beer clatters to the floor. Mickey goes into a catanoic state at the sight, frozen and rooted to the spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike his lockscreen, this is an image of Ian he will never be able to erase from his brain as much as he wants it to be. Swallowing vomit in mis mouth and the urge to punch the screen, Mickey takes a second to observe the screen before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A red light blinks at the top of the laptop, signifying that Mickey himself was being recorded, someone was watching. This detail didn't escape Mickey's mind and it didn't sit well with him either, but his main focus was on the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A simple livestream video-cast with a timestamp on the bottom was locked onto the screen. You couldn't move it or exit out of it, not that Mickey wanted to exit out, he just wanted to pull his husband out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pair or black converse on their tippy toes in a puddle of blood catches Mickey’s eyes first. Distantly, he remembers calling Ian twinkle toes and he danced with Franny in the kitchen in those same shoes only weeks ago, but it felt like lifetimes ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blindfolded, gagged, and clearly awake, Ian is suspended by his arms above his head, tied to a pipe on the ceiling. He watches Ian squirm and writhe in the clothes Mickey had dressed him in just hours before as a figure in a wife beater and black sweatpants appraises Ian. Digging into his ribs, squeezing his jaw, and finally ripping off his blindfold in a painful manner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red-heads eyes are blown out with panic and a thick cut above his eyebrow bleeds slowly, marring his porcelain face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey's own eyes on the body of a homophobic asshole that gave Mickey half of his chromosomes, stares back at him with a smirk so cold it made Mickey physically shiver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey gets to watch the full implication of Ian realizing who had him and Mickey gets to torturously watch every emotion flick across Ian's face as he says, “say hello to Mickey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distantly, Mickey hears Tami calling 911 and a commotion that drags Kev and Vee in, but he's still paralyzed. His grip on Liam tightens infinitely as he realizes the full implication of how royally he's fucked. He does not recognize the building at all, and something in him feels that as much as every instinct says to, his fist and bat won't solve this problem. Ian's been gone since this morning, he might not even be in the country for all Mickey knows. For now, his eyes meet Ian’s even if Ian can't see him, and he gazes into those green orbs as Terry puts out a cigarette on Ian’s collarbone. The wince of pain burns Mickey more than the cigarette brunt Ian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian was gone. He didn't run. He was taken. By Mickey’s own father. Without taking his eyes off of the laptop, he grabs the bowl of popcorn kernels that his slob of a brother-in-law has left on the table for like three days now and heaves his stomach contents into them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vee rubs his back and he can only tell it's her because of her nails scratching his back. She's wasting valuable time that she could be looking for Ian on Mickey. Mickey didn't need it. He couldn't choke out the words, but he wanted to tell them all to get out and go look. Knock on every door and search every basement in the continent if that is what it took. He'd do it himself, but something in him can't tear his eyes away from the screen. Cops swarm the house, but no one even bothers to move Mickey. It's pointless, useless, and futile. Just like how Mickey feels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian was a gay, bipolar, and bastard son living with a litter of Irish kids. In other words, he was no stranger to pain. The cigarette on his collarbone wasn't his first and it wouldn’t be his last. The restraints and blindfolds were a lot less comfy than the kind he liked to use in bed, but on the whole, he was okay from them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The real pain came from the blinking red light in front of him and the four words that ripped Ian's own heart out. Knowing that Mickey was listening and watching him go through this pain made every fiber of instinct in his body scream to hug Mickey and make it okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The icy water that Terry poured on him was shocking enough to make him involuntarily gasp as the ice shocked his system, making his clothes damp and causing them to stick to his porcelain skin like a glove. The blood under him turns a reflectively pretty shade of red as it travels towards the drains and mixes with the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least the ice soothed his burn and he felt more awake than ever, lack of meds be damned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God damn f*g. Terry mutters, pulling a switchblade from a rolling cart in the middle of the room. Ian gulped as it came towards him, but tried to stay still so as to not alarm Mickey. Distantly, he knew that was the point. It would keep Ian docile if he knew Mickey was watching and hurt Mickey all the more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AHH.” Ian shrieks as the switchblade knicks him. Ian cringes, expecting to feel himself be dismembered on camera for the love of his life to see, but he doesn't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, the knife makes a squelching sound as Terry cuts off Ian's shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theatrically, Terry whips off Ian's shirt and turns towards the camera.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya see, Mickey, I have your carrot top fuck boy and I don't plan on letting him go anytime soon. I've tried everything with you. Svetlana, I paid for your wedding with her, I went to prison for trying to get rid of this Gallagher fucker, and I even tried to stop your wedding. I think I finally realized the problem though. This fucker.” Terry snears, grabbing Iand face harshly to show him off to the camera. “I figure, the best way to get rid of my homo problem is to get rid of the homo. Cut it off at the source. Terry accentuates his point by tapping the tip of his blade on Ian’s nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm going to make you regret the day you met him and I'm going to make you watch. I've been planning this for months, and while I have no doubts that you and those fucking Gallaghers will find where we are eventually, it won't be soon enough to even find a body to bury. Just a pool of blood. I even made sure to get on untraceable web-recording so that you won't be able to track me here. The location scrambles to a different country every six seconds and bounces off of a cell phone tower in Russia. Mick, your old man might not be a lover of all of that I-stuff, but this to help gain the Milkovich reputation back, is worth it. Get your popcorn out Mick, the show's about to begin. And you, fag*ot are going to regret the day that you ever dared to put your filthy tongue near a Milkovich.” Terry finishes, spitting in Ian's face. Ian blinks rapidly to get rid of his father-in-laws spit that landed in his eyelashes, gooping them together like a spider web.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finding it best to be silent and prepare for what's to come, mentally, Ian watches as his father-in-law takes electroshock pads off of the cart. Part of him wants to correct Terry on his application, but Ian ultimately decided that showing off his EMT knowledge might be better accepted when he's not being held hostage at gunpoint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, the kicker bursts in. The clunk of boots on the tile feels so comforting and familiar that Ian actually feels himself go lax with relief. Mickey was here. Of course he was, Ian knew deep down nothing would keep his husband from helping him. Rejoice fills Ian's body and he immediately feels the warmth from the hug that he’ll get from </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A black leather jacket and brown shaggy hair come into view at a jog. The Milkovich eyes meet Ian's, but there on a body that looks very similar to Mickey, but not tall enough to be Ian's husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey pops-” Iggy starts, dropping his hero on the floor when he sees his brother-in-law shackled to the ceiling. As much as Ian had tried to stay strong for Mickey’s benefit, he can't help the tears that well up in his eyes when he realizes it's not his husband that is coming to his rescue, it's his brother-in-law.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pops.” Iggy croaks, “This is Mick’s husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re cutting the f*g out of this family once and for all. Make the Milkovich's straight already. I was thinking of grabbing the sister and making it a two-for-two with Sandy, but apparently she's in jail for being a child predator. God damn Gallaghers need to learn to stay away from this family.” Terry sneers, as if he was not a child predator himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can't. Pops, this is Ian. We beat up this kid’s doctor for molesting him, he's helped us beat up neighborhood child predators, he's saved Mickey’s life, and he makes Mickey happy. We can't do this to Ian.” Iggy reasons, throwing his hands up placatingly as he inches closer to his brother in law.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Iggy can even process it, Terry whips out his gun and shoots Ian’s right kneecap. Even though Ian was supported by the chains above him, his legs still flattered as he let out a piercing scream of pain. Pain for his knee, pain for Iggy, pain for Mickey watching, pain for Franny who he had promised to read a bedtime story to, pain for Liam because he never got to help him with his homework, pain for Carl who was trying so hard to find the “Carlness” that life had knocked out of him, pain for Lip who was struggling to be a dad and took everything so personally and was so self-critical, but most of all pain for Mickey, who he just wanted to see again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Po- Iggy starts, but Terry fires a warning shot three feet above Ian's head, which makes him flinch and go a little deafer, in warning. “Refuse to help and I'll shoot him right here in front of Mick. Terry says, gesturing with his head to the camera. It all clicks in Iggy’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay I will.” Iggy shouts, diving in front of Ian and ripping off his coat to bandage the blood flow. Iggy then stands up to wrap an arm around the ginger who made his grumpy little brother so happy. Nodding at the camera, in a silent promise to Mickey, Iggy looks at his father with the most disgusted and pained look he could manage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iggy Milkovich could either be the reason his little brother watched his soulmate die, or help his father torture his little brother’ soulmate. Knowing his lazy father, the best way to help Ian was to stay and wait him out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iggy Milkovich realized how fucked he was, how fucked Mickey was, and how fucked Ian was as the ginger’s face went pale with blood loss and shock from the pain of his knee cap shattering. Ian couldn't walk now, Iggy assessed, and there was no way Iggy could carry the ginger at the speed they needed to go out to outrun his father’s bullet. For now, Iggy would have to wait it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fantastic!” Terry cheers, pressing a button that sent an inhumane volt of electricity through Ian’s pale and convulsing body. Ian instantly passed out from the pain, his head falling limp and dangling forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iggy’s fingers searched frantically for a pulse, sighing in audible relief when he found one. Ian wasn't as close with Iggy as he was with Mickey, Mandy, or even Sandy , but right now he was Ian’s only ally, as Ian wasn't about to become allies with the Milkovich holding him hostage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He's okay. Iggy reassures the camera.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A pity.” Terry smears, cleans him up and let him rest- he’ll need it.” Terry sneers Sauntering away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh and Iggy” Terry calls, out of the camera’s view, “I have the keys to the shackle and you know that we’re in the middle of the woods. Don't try anything stupid because he won't make it that far on that leg. And I almost forgot to turn this off, clue Mick in to where we are and I'll kill Ian before he can even type it in navigation.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Ill try and update ASAP! Thanks for all of the lovely comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Evening I will not forget- Dermot Kennedy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter 3.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey Milkovich had spent a lifetime being hollow. A lifetime of feeling it.  A lifetime of living it. He was so used to hollow that it felt full.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was until he met Ian. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian had filled him up in every sense of the way. They took care of each other. Their darkest demons complimented each other in a way that made them strong. After loving Ian Gallagher for roughly a decade, their communication was essentially telepathy and fucking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lots and lots of fucking. Because Ian’s fingers seemed to instinctively know where Mickey needed them always. A single touch of his could heal Mickey. The thought of the pads of the redhead’s scraggly and freckles fingers tracing over his cheeks in the morning while he whispered “I love you” made Mickey want to vomit with how badly he wanted that feeling back. How ungrateful he was to not have taken Ian’s hands and held them, never letting go, and told Ian that he loved him back instead of just assuming that he knew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, this was a new definition of hollow. Excommunicated. Alone. Mickey couldn't read Ian because there was no Ian and he was panicking at the lack of tangible proof that the redhead was his. The ring wasn't enough, he needed his husband back in his bed where he belonged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But instead, he was with his father and Mickey couldn't even help. This was a new level of hollow. Staring at the blank screen, wishing, hoping, and wanting for some form of a proof of life instead of letting his imagination be overruled by a terrifying symphony of “what ifs”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What If Ian was dead. What if Ian was hurting. What if Ian blamed him. What if Ian thought that Mickey’s heart didn't beat for the redhead because Mickey wasn't there. The only hope Ian had was Mickey’s cracked out older brother who had a grand total of three functioning brain cells clinking around in that hollow dome that Iggy called a head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian was due for his meds. Mickey chucked the orange bottles at a wall and then spent ten minutes picking up all of the scattered pieces for WHEN Ian came back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian was missing his work schedule. Mickey had to call Sue and when she asked where Ian was, he just hung up. He would worry about that later, right now his priority was filling the agonizing moments between the screen going back and it returning with more images of Ian. Mickey wasn't sure which was worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian wasn't putting Franny to bed with a bedtime story about dinosaurs and dragons co-existing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian wasn't helping Carl with his on-paper police courses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian wasn't sitting on Liam's floor for hours on end and listening to him talk about how the hetronormative society is full of systematic racism built to keep the poor poor and the sick sick, while Ian actually listened and made insightful comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And worst of all, Ian wasn't with Mickey and Mickey actually was starting to feel symptoms of withdrawal from his husband.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iggy wasn't Lip. He wasn't a superhero older brother who always knew the right words and how to magically fix things. Iggy wasn't even close, but for right now, he was Mickey’s only hope so Mickey was grateful for him. So fucking greatful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>———————————————————————-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandy Milkovich was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. As soon as she saw her cousin-in-law and possible future brother-in-law on that video feed, she knew that he was fucked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An anger rises in Sandy. Ian had always been tolerable. She had tried so much to hate him for putting Mick through the shitter, but Ian was just a kid for most of it. And now? What use was her anger? Staring at Ian as the computer flicked back on. He looked so much like Debbie in that moment. She was so grateful that she put Franny to she’d because Ian was a sight that you couldn't unsee if you tried- and Sandy did try with many many consecutive beers as the pigs swarmed the house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Terry’s earlier words burned like acid being injected into Sandy’s veins. Debbie would have been there too if it wasn't for Julia. She would have had to watch Debbie go through this. She wonders if she's a sick person for being grateful that it's just Ian. Maybe, but that doesn't mean she wants Ian there. Ian doesn't belong i'm these situations. Mick always says that he's too pretty for war, which seems to be an inside joke but it always makes her girlfriend’s older brother smile. The mix of rage, sadness, drunk, and nauseous that Sandy was feeling at the thought of Debbie being up there made her rage inside thinking how bad Mickey must feel right now. From an outside perspective, Mickey and Ian seemed to function as a unit. Like conjoined twins in a romantic way. Sandy has seen them mope about spending the afternoon apart while one is at work. They aren't meant to be apart. Not after all of the craziness that Sandy has been told about. Mickey deserved to have Ian, but now his only hope was Iggy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>——————————</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vee remembers that she had once told Carl that she changed his diapers. Because she did. Ian was five when Vee came into his life.  Vee had held his hand in a scary movie, had him sleep over her house when things were rough at his, she had cleaned his vomit while Fuona rubbed his back when he had the flu. She had dropped him off at prison. She has read him bedtime stories after nightmares. She was at his wedding. She cleaned up after him when he peed the bed at age five. Now the twenty-three year old was just missing. Gone. Kidnapped. And Vee couldn't wrap her head around it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian may not have been hers like he was Fiona’s, but he certainly felt like Vee’s own little brother after all these years. And now she was watching him pay for his crimes which only included loving. Loving was all Vee remembered Ian knowing how to do. Well that and be dramatic about things, but he was always so loving. The couple has finally gone from freckles and America’s dirtiest white boy to a team that was finally free to hug at parties and hold hands on the subway. The thought of something like this happening to one of her girls because of who they love sickened Vee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought of having to tell Fiona that her brother had been kidnapped sickened Vee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought of tears in that young man’s eyes sickened Vee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—————————————————————-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian’s head rested against a solid object. He felt it. There was no magical moment for Ian where he woke up and thought he was at home in bed. This wasn't Oz- this was the Southside. And Southside rules state that if you come out and your husband has a homophobic and racist Nazi of a father that kidnaps you, you're fucked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Iggy, that much was clear. Iggy had bandaged him with his own torn up flannel. Iggy had toweled him off. Iggy had tried his best to wrap Ian’s knee, but it was a clean shot right through the kneecap. Recovery on that was going to be a bitch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Terry was watching Ian. A scowl on his face. He was getting off on this pain that Ian was going through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian knew the camera was rolling so he put on a show and gave it his best smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this my late bachelor party. Guys, you shouldn't have.” Ian gushes, taking every ounce of strength that he has left in his bloody throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're filthy, Gallagher.” Terry spits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me ask you this.” Terry says, “How do you feel about Mickey, right now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love him more than life itself and I will until the day that I die.” Ian professes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well that day is going to be today carrot top. How do you feel about Mickey?” Terry asks again, but this time he twists Ian’s arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Punch after punch landed on Ian’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian’s arm is broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's spit on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Verbally abused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Choked until he saw the stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pinched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Terry even went as far as to slice a cut in Ian’s palm, but Ian’s answer remained the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love him so much.” was grumbled out every time. Ian would spit out blood to do it, but he would say it every time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love him so so much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lub im.” Ian slurs, feeling dazed, but now Ian was determined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Determined to stay up for as long as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Determined to stay awake, for Mickey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian knew he wasn't making it out of this, but he would hold on for Mickey, who was watching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Ian held on, letting his mind go somewhere else entirely. Thinking about how he should have gone to Mexico with Mickey. Thinking of swimming with him. Sandals and tequila. Night time walks on the sand. Never worrying about Terry. Sex on the beach while drinking a sex on the beach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How much time has lapsed eluded Ian. Ian never opened his eyes until he was forced to by a bathing of angry and blue light. So so so blue. Ian wonders if the lights know that they are copying Mickey’s eyes. The ones that he can see so vividly as he imagines Mickey, carefree and laughing next to the ocean. White teeth in a perfect smile. Eyebrows hitched with amusement. A deep rumbling through his chest. The “Ian Galager” tattoo on display for everyone to see. Ian thought about having Mickey’s own name, spelled right because otherwise it would drive him nuts, over his heart. But Ian didn't need a physical reminder because Ian was always right over his heart anyways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck that blue light is annoying, is all Ian can think before he hears a bang and everything goes black.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey Milkovich was never a runner by preference. In the metaphorical sense, yes. And if it was strictly necessary, then yes. But for the most part, Mickey avoided running. But when he heard a gunshot and that feed go black, he ran.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ran until Lip pulled up next to him with Sandy in tow and the two physically wrestled them into the back seat while Mickey made a scene like he was being kidnapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fire. Rape. Free ice cream.” he shouted, but no one seemed to care that a grown man was being kidnapped by two pateint and sober looking adults.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sandy sat in the back seat with Mickey, hand over the car handle so he couldn't jump out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ians at Cook County General, asshole. We’re taking you there.” and Sandy said it over and over and over and over again, but it wouldn't sink into Mickey’s head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That gun shot. That gun shot. That gun shot. It was all Mickey could think about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iggy had figured out a way to call the cops after watching the red head almost die in his arms and then practically shiver to death.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one could keep Mickey in the waiting room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The staff eventually give up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey doesn't care that his unshaven face in Ian’s own words would make him look, “homeless and unloved when he is neither”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey doesn't care about himself. He hasn't in the longest time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And when he bursts into the room, they are preparing him for surgery. His eyes are closed. His skin paler than a sheet of paper. Ian looks dead. But he's not. It's surgery for his knee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian’s covered in a mosaic of bruises, cuts, and forming scars, but the EKG’s steady beeping showed Mickey that he was breathing. On his own. He wasn't dying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Mickey, ignoring security, parked right next to Ian as they prepared him for surgery. Held Ian’s cold hand in his own and cried about how he wasn't feeling Ian squeeze it back. Ian always squeezed his hand back even in the most dire of situations and the deepest sleeps. It's like Ian’s body knew when it was Mick’s hand. It knew to say “I love you” even when Mick was asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Mickey slid his “F” finger under all of Ian’s long fingers and used that one to pick up Ian’s hand so he could rub Ian knuckles. Rest his hand against his cheek. Mickey didn't dare to touch Ian’s cheek because he knew how cold he would feel. Mickey held Ian’s hand until he went into the OR, security pulling him off and eventually Lip collapsing on the floor with the both of them sobbing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip makes Mickey into a rag doll. He pulls the Milkovich who stopped protesting into a chair in the waiting room, makes him eat and drink, and tells him to go to bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian had been with Terry for thirty-seven hours. Thirty-seven hours. Mickey hadn't slept, eaten or drank in thirty-hours, not having known that Ian was missing for a good seven of those hours.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, The Gallaghers, Gallagher-Milkovichs, Milkovich, and Balls were all crowded into Ian’s room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor had told the group how Ian’s knee cap was practically shattered. He had a broken radius, and a fractured ulna. Three broken ribs. A concussion. Evidence of someone touching him. A couple of burns, most likely from a lighter. Marks from electrocution. Dehydration.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip wanted to know if he’d walk again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl wanted to know if Ian’s meds would be okay after all of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vee wanted to know why his face had such a purple bruise on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandy wanted to know when charges were being pressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Mickey, he wanted to know when Ian was going to wake-up. And the doctor corrected him with an “if”.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Angel Of Small Death and the Codeine Scene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter four- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(this is a flashback if that isn't clear)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Executive decision on ages</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian- 23</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mick- 26</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lip-25</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl-18</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Debbie-20</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franny- 5</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liam- 13</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Iggy Milkovich was a simple guy. He lived by a simple code. The three Gs. Three Gs- guns, gold, and girls. Sometimes ganga. That's it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iggy wasn't a hero by any means. He was under no delusions that he was superman, but Mickey was to him. Even if Mickey was his little brother, he was always the brains. Always the guy at the fore-front of the operation. He had the bark, the bit, and the brains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iggy swears that the saddest day of his life is when he walked in on Ian and Mickey. Learning what had gone right over the older Milkovich’s head. If anyone deserved to be happy after hiding, it was Mickey. If anyone didn't want him to be happy, it was Terry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy in front of him wasn't really a boy anymore, but all Iggy could see when he looked at him is the fifteen-year-old that Joey and Tony had nearly murdered after Mandy faked. The son of the town drunk with a litter of kids that Mick had almost had him and Iggy kill. The brother of that blonde that drove them on a “beer run” once. The kid was under Iggy’s nose so often when Mickey and Mandy were teens that he was practically a rash. But he made Mickey happy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even when Iggy had witnessed the boy go batshit crazy, steal a baby, fill the living room with the world’s weirdest ponzi scheme, and lay in bed depressed, Mickey was still happiest with Ian. The protective instincts that Mickey had always had for Mandy instantly spread to the red-haired Gallagher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mick went to jail for shooting the pedo-boss who was screwing around with the red-head when he was a fifteen-year-old, he went to jail the night that they were supposed to kill Frank Gallagher, he went to jail for attempting to kill the random Gallagher that showed up out of nowhere and snitched on Ian, and he went to jail again simply because Ian was. Mickey was always down to do time for this Gallagher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So seeing him so fragile and breakable like this, Iggy knew he had to do something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The one advantage that Iggy had is that no one thought that his remaining brain cels could string together a cohesive though besides sex, booze, and money. But Iggy was strangely motivated even without the sandwich that he had dropped to save Gallagher before something broke that could not be fixed in his little brother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey’s whole life he protected everyone in the best way that he could, even if that meant shoving someone away to do it. Now it was Iggy’s turn to protect Mickey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he faked complacency and conjured up the knowledge of medical related things from a Grey’s Anatomy episode that he had watched last week when he spilled beer on the remote and didn't want to get up to change the channel with the buttons on the television.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kept the red-head warm and safe from bleeding out, but Iggy had the dreaded feeling that he was just prolonging his existence. So, he played the long game and let Terry have his way for twenty-nine whole hours.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twenty-nine hours of watching Gallagher get tortured in the name of love. It wasn't worse than anything that Iggy had seen or done before, but it left an ache in his heart knowing that it was being broadcasted to Mickey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And eventually, he was able to spell out two words with his fingers and hope that Mickey caught the, “Peoria guns.” Mickey had to know what that meant. The town where they had done their first gun run with just the two of them when Mickey was thirteen and Iggy was seventeen. It had been a good road trip. And about fifteen minutes from where they had done the run, there was a warehouse in the woods. Iggy just prayed that Mickey would get it in time because he didn't know how much long he could keep the red-head awake for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey had never understood the phrase “pull yourself together until now.” In fact, he hadn't understood most phrases, but right now? He was apart at the seams.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course Mickey knew it was better to have Ian here, but he was in just as much danger in front of him as he was with Terry. Both about the same terrifying odds of survival. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian. His Ian. His “Ian Gallagherrr”. His firecrotch. His husband. He didn't even have his wedding ring, but now was not the time for that. Mickey had never seen the ginger be so still before. Or so pale. Or so quiet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was ready to sell his soul to hear Ian nagging him about leaving his nail clippings on the sink again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room was too quiet. To the point where Mickey stood up and chucked a vase at the wall of flowers that someone who didn't care about Ian enough to be at his bedside had sent and screamed, “THIS ISN'T A FUCKING FUNERAL.” No one said anything, they just cleaned and this further seems to aggravate Mickey, who was already going to have to change his address to the hospital. He showered in Ian’s room with the door open so he could see Ian at all times, thank god Ian had no roommate. He slept next to Ian’s bed. He ate the hospital food and drank the gross knock off of Coca-Cola. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All Mickey’s life, he had smoked and struggled with quitting. Before this, he couldn't have quit even if he wanted to. But now, he had gone cold turkey because the thought of leaving Ian alone even to smoke was unfathomable and he wasn't about to get thrown out for smoking in a hospital. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian’s one eye was bruised shut, but Mickey found himself periodically opening the one green eye in order to see if there were any signs of life under there- there never were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lip was leaving the hospital a little more frequently than Mickey, but if he didn't have Fred, he wouldn't leave either. Something about the sight of his brother lying there like that, so cold and vulnerable triggered a protectiveness inside him. Even though he knew that Mickey would never let anything touch Ian again, he couldn't help but scowl at the Milkovich because even if Mickey didn't want it, he had the same eyes as the homophbic nazi that had done this to Ian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip thought of all the things that could have happened to Ian and it sparked an anger in him. At the ripe age of twenty-three, he already has had a knee replacement that will aceh in the rain and he’ll never be able to run the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It made him angry to think about the fact that at some point, Ian was in the right condition to join the army. Now with his knee and his meds, they would never let him. Another one of Ian’s dreams that he watched die. Ian was always a dreamer, but it broke Lip’s heart to think about all the “cants” anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian can't run the same. Ian will never want to take a walk alone after a fight, not that Mickey will let him. Ian won't ever look at a laptop or camera again, none of them will. Lip hyper focuses on the cants and broods at the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tami comes as often as she can, they all have off from work. The case made it high profile and the recap was featured on the seven o’clock news. The auto-shop is actually paying Lip to be here, not that he'd be anywhere else. Tami’s boss gave her a more flexible schedule and she's been picking up the slack that Ian and Mickey had dropped with Franny and Liam.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They only told Franny that Ian was sick, but she wasn't stupid. She cried for the pair that she had come to think of as parental figures in her parental absence at night. Sandy brought her to the hospital once, but Mickey’s silence was almost as loud as Ian’s. They were both almost catantonic, not being able to function without each other properly. It was like Mick was rebooting. Franny kissed Ian’s cheek and tucked the hand-made get better cards into his blankets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liam came once, cried. And Lip had to take him to the waiting room because of the fact that was borderline-hyperventilating over the sight of his older brother. Lip had pulled the kid that was way too big to be in his lap, into his lap, and rubbed his back while he cried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carl had come the first day and the third, and he was due to come tonight (day four of Ian being in the hospital.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were officially a week since the fight that led to this. A full seven days. The moon has rotated over seven times. 604,800 seconds had passed. Weeks used to pass by all the time like sweat off Lip’s back, but this week? It felt like time was replaced by an acidic copy cat that taunted Lip at every corner that every one of those 640,800 seconds that had passed could have been prevented if just one person had stopped Ian from going. Had looked a little earlier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, Lip knew somewhere in his large brain that Ian was an adult and no one would have been able to stop him, but the thoughts plagued Lip anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was night at the hospital. Mickety, damp hair and Ian’s sweats and pajamas that Carl had brought for him and even doused in Ian’s cologne because he knew how Mickey liked Ian’s smell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carl was sitting on the window sill, crunching away at some Ramen that he had bought in the cafeteria.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip was sitting on a chair by the television, lazilly watching Jeopardy reruns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey’s hand was enclasped in Ian’s (really the other way around, but Mickey liked to pretend that Ian was holding him). His head rested reverently on Ian’s shoulder as he stared blankly just below the television.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica was flipping through a magazine and picking out what color to paint her nails.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone else was living their lives away from this time-trap that was the hospital. Groundhog’s Day from hell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian’s nurse had just changed all of his bandages and rewrapped his knee, commenting on how nicely he was healing. Mickey noticed the purple around his eye was beginning to take on a green hue. Mickey could probably open that eyelid, but even if Ian couldn't feel the pain, he didn't want to chance it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was thinking about the black eye’s that Ian used to get when he was a kid. How'd they practically would blend in with his freckles and get hidden behind shaggy “ginger Justin Beiber ass-lookin” bangs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was thinking about the Kash and Grab, and Ned, and everyone else who has ever touched Ian in a hurtful way when he hears a tiny “umpf.” barely a puff of breath. But it makes the hair on the end of Mickey’s arms stand wide and alert.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian?” he asks, quietly and unsurely, his own voice rough from invoice as he peered at his husband, whose eyes were moving groggily behind thick lashes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The entire room stood on edge as Ian’s body gradually twisted and stretched as groans of discomfort left his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M, Mah.” he tries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Firecrotch!” Mickey exclaims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ayee!” Lip cheers as Vee and Carl celebrate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian good to see you buddy.” Lip cheers as he sauntered over to the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian’s eyes move around the room, wild and unfocused as they take in the light in the room. “Umhuh.” a tiny sigh of discomfort leaves his lips. Mickey squeezes his hand and Ian’s fingers squeeze back as he zeroes in on Mickey’s tattooed-knuckles and Ian’s own finger moves to touch the cold metal that is Mickey’s wedding ring.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know Gallagher, we’ll get you a new wedding ring. Okay?” Micky practically coos, gently smoothing Ian’s hair with his free-hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian shrugs off Mickey’s touch and wriggles his hand free from Mickey’s grip and swipes it over his eyes aggressively to ward off the light, his sighs of discomfort and pain from waking up intensifying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“E? Are you in pain?” Mickey asks, trying again to smooth his hands through Ian’s hair in the way that usually makes Ian lean into the touch. He could, and has, spent hours with his head in Mickey’s lap as Mickey twirled strands of hair and gently combed through the ginger mass with his fingers. The discomfort that Ian was demonstrating at this small gesture that was one of his favorites, made Mickey panic. He stood up, alert, pushing the chair back with the back of his boot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Press the call button.” Lip says discreetly, frown lines gracing his features.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian’s green eyes dart wildly from side to side and his chest begins to heave with panicked breaths. “Mih, mah.” he tries again, frustrated when his raw throat wouldn't cooperate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here, here.” Carl says, taking a Poland Spring that he had drank half of and frantically passing it to Ian to drink. Lip holds it up to Ian’s lips, and he reluctantly drinks from it, but his eyes stay darting frantically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian, you're safe. It's okay.” Mickey tries, pressing a firm and grounding hand on Ian’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian flinches away and looks up at Mickey in horror and Mickey can physically feel his heart drop down to his worn out knock off “Dock Marvins”. Hook. Line. And Sinker. All three were felt as his heart actually dropped and stopped beating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who, who?” Ian gasps, his breath picking up a panicked speed as his chest heaves again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Buddy, buddy. Calm down.” Lip pleads, placing a hand on Ian’s cheek and forcing him to look at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“L- Lip?” Ian stutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, buddy. It's me. I'm right here, it's okay. You're in the hospital.” Lip coaxes, gently tapping Ian’s cheek with his thumb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian covers Lip’s hand with his one good one as he peers up at him with wide and owlish eyes blinking rapidly. “Why are you so big?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, buddy? Fat jokes already?” Lip chuckles, letting out a sigh of relief that's quickly wiped off his face when Ian squeezes his eyes shut and tears start to trace down his freckled cheeks like raindrops on a window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian. You gotta calm down babe.” Mickey soothes, flipping his hand upside down and gently tracing Ian’s face from temple to cheek to chin with the back of his index finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian let out a roaring sob as a nurse burst into the room, “Who are you!?” he screams, throat mucus from the tears and raw from the lack of use.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone freezes as Ian continues to thrash to the best of his ability and sob.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carl is the first to let out a careful chuckle, but the twisted up scrunch of concern never leaves his face, “Not funny, Ian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carl?” Ian cries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Ian. Right here.” Carl says, stepping closer to place a hand on his brother’s good knee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where's mom?” Ian sobs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, Ian? Mom's been dead for years.” Lip says, cocking his head, looking for a clear-cut answer like always. But Ian was never two plus two.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom, I want mom.” Ian sobs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Baby you're mom passed, member?” Mickey sighs, exhaling deeply and trying his best to think of how to calm the red-head down without touching him because that was seeming to agitate him further. He settles on humming softly, a tone that Ian knew because he sang it all the time. Ian always told him how he loved when Mickey sang. Even though Mickey knew that he wasn't destined for American Idol, Ian treated him like Kelly Clarkson. Though he would never admit it, sometimes he would sing softly to Ian or hum a tune if Ian was low or he couldn't fall asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some of Mickey’s fondest memories include the red-head laying with his ear on Mickey’s heartbeat because the steady rhythm calmed him as Mickey stroked his hair and hummed about </span>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bmp4QWzHak">angels and codeine.</a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey hums for a few seconds and everyone stands still as Ian’s eyes mull Mickey over. Ian seems to calm down for a second and close his eyes, but when he flicks them open, they are full of fresh tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The nurse who had been trying to cut through the tight-net web of Gallaghers, Gallagher-Milkoviches, and the one Ball-Fisher who was watching with her mouth open, found it futile to push through to her patient. She was wishing she had brought a whistle from her days as a gymnastics coach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who even are you?” Ian screams.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian, I'm Mickey, your husband remembers, You put a rind on it.” Mickey tries to sound neutral, but he's hiding a small sob of his own behind a mirthless chuckle as he waggles his ring finger in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No you're not. You're too old and I'm too young to get married. I want my mom. Even Frank. Please, please, get me my mom.” Ian screams.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He doesn't remember.” Vee states, more of a statement of awe than a question. How could Ian forget the epic trials and tribulations that were “Gallavich”?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. Mr. Gallagher. I'm Gabrielle, head nurse. Can I ask you some questions?” Gabrielle asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian tackles a steadying breath and looks up at her. “Yeah sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What's your name?” she asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian Clayton Gallagher.” he responds, carefully, like it might be wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, how old are you?” she asks, shining a light back and forth between his green eyes. He blinks uncomfortably and squirms under the intensity of it, covering both of his eyes with the back of his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thirteen?” Ian says, uncertainly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That eight letter, two syllable statement sets the room on fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He's fucking twnety-three. You lost an entire decade of his mind. Whatever jacked up shit you did to there in the OR, you better go back and fucking fix it because he can't just loose a decade!” Lip erupts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The nurse just pulls out a pager and speaks into it, ignoring the chaos in front of her, “Page pysch and neuro.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're not sending him to the nut ward again!” Carl exclaims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carl.” Vee shrieks, hitting him atop the head with the magazine that was crushed so hard in his hand that her fingers were begging to go numb from loss of circulation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian starts sobbing again, deep, heart-breaking, soul-crushing sobs as he screams for his parents. For his sister. He even screams for Frank a couple of times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vee, go find Frank behind whatever bar he decided to camp out in.” Lip orders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Frank will just make it worse.” Carl argues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of their bickering fades to the background as Mickey takes a giant and dizzying step backwards, stumbling into Ian’s IV pole, but it doesn't register.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>None of it does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey hasn't heard anything since Ian said “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No you're not”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey read somewhere on the back on a bench waiting for the L that the average age for heart-attacks in males is sixty-five, younger if the male is a smoker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey thinks sixty-five is right because he just aged about thirty-nine years in the past minute. Mickey could swear that this is what a heart attack is because how could it be anything else? He's been heartbroken. He's been through every type of physical pain in the book. He felt the terror of panic attacks and flashbacks as Ian pulled him into his lap and made Mickey count out his heartbeats and breathe in sync with Ian’s breath and name the things around him that he saw, felt, heard, saw, and smelled. He's felt it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This has to be a heart attack, he thinks as a doctor in glasses asks Ian to rate his pain 1-10, but Ian just continues to thrash and scream at the point of yanking out his IV. This is a ten for Mickey, Mickey confirms in his own mind as Ian finally goes silent with the plunge of a sedative into the crook of his elbow. This was a ten out of ten, everything else pales in comparison to watching those green eyes lock on him with such fear and betrayal as they blinked close against their will.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Im on winter break for school so dont get used to this update schedule. Please leave comments about literally anything like leave the letter "A" from a guest user for all I care, I just get anxious that noones reading my work and that makes me loose motivation. So SOMEONE take one for the team and comment on this chapter</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Won't let you go- Ben Cocks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Really a filler that I thought of at lunch and decided to roll with</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me know what you think- also Im bad at titles so Ill probably just use whatever song is playing while I write</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Five</p><p> </p><p>Mickey had the sense that he was being watched from the moment that he woke up. He had gone through something resembling hysteria of his own after they sedated Ian and cried himself to sleep with a bottle of beer in the bar in the basement of the hospital, while Lip was with Ian. Somehow, had stumbled back to the same chair, and now he was being greeted with green eyes staring at him like he's in a zoo.</p><p> </p><p>They are alone in the room together and Ian’s got bags under his eyes from not sleeping.</p><p> </p><p>Mick clears his throat and Ian’s eyes drift from Mickey’s knuckles that he has been studying to Mickey. Mickey had unconsciously laid a hand on Ian’s shoulder as he slept and Ian had taken comfort in studying the intricate patterns of his skin.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, hey man.” Mickey starts, forcing his voice to go deeper and removing his hand from Ian’s shoulder as he pushes his chair back. “How ya feelin?” </p><p> </p><p>“Put your hand back.” Ian says, pretty pointedly. “I liked looking at the patterns.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sure you want me to touch you?” Mickey asks as he tentatively puts a hand back on Ian’s shoulder so he can study his knuckles. </p><p> </p><p>“You married me right? Unless we’re both in a sexless partnership, you touch me all the time.” Ian snaps.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah chill man. We have a good sex life, you get it on the regular.” Mickey says, but suddenly his cheeks flame at the prospect of explaining a twenty-six-year-old’s intracte sex life to a thirteen-year-old.</p><p> </p><p>“Sweet!” Ian exclaims, like a thirteen-year-old would. Mickey shifts uncomfortably.</p><p> </p><p>“Really fucking unfair.” Ian grumbles.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey can't help himself, “What was that mumbles.”</p><p> </p><p>“Unfair that I have a hot husband and I can't remember it. It's like waking up and missing a flight.” Ian whines.</p><p> </p><p>“Shithead, you've never been on a plane.” Mickey reminds him.</p><p> </p><p>“How do you know?” Ian says, petulantly.</p><p> </p><p>“We've been on and off since we were fifteen.” Mickey explains, softly. Something about the lost time sets Ian’s mood swings off again.</p><p> </p><p>“I don't even know your name and you think you know more about me than I do.” Ian sneers.</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Michalio Aleksander Milkovich, but everyone calls me Mickey, and you call me Mick most times. But, Gallagher, I knew more about you than you did even before you lost a decade.” Mickey reminds him, patiently. Mickey tries his best to remain steady and consistent with the boy, because that was his Ian. He has his green eyes, his smile, his smell, and his brain, but Mickey’s version of Ian had been lost in the mess of Ian’s mind that Terry had made.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah like what?” Ian taunts.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I know you can't see it but you've got two tattoos. You hate Frozen but love Moana.” Mickey starts and Ian cocks his head. “Shit that's right you don't know any of those movies.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, duh.” Ian says.</p><p> </p><p>“Check your attitude man, this isn't easy. I know when you're sick, you like your back rubbed and you hate hot soup. I know you like scary movies, but not ones where the dog dies. I know you won't eat pasta unless it has sauce and you hate ketchup but your hair is the cover of ketchup. I know you're super ticklish, even when you're grumpy.” Mickey says, skating a teasing finger down the side of Ian’s neck, but Ian just shrugs him off and narrows eyes suspiciously, and Mickey has to remind himself that he is just a strange man to Ian. Mickey doesn't get to just touch Ian, especially after all that he has been through, because to Ian, Mickey isn't the love of his life anymore because he doesn't remember his life, much less the love in it.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey clears his throat and continues, making a mental note that even if Ian seems friendly, that's just Ian, right now he's a scared and confused teenager crying for his mom. “You always put your right shoe on first and the smell of ibuprofen makes you nauseous. You think penguins are creepy and carrots are gross.” </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, so you know some shit about me.” Ian puffs, shifting away from Mickey a little, looking kind of off-guard. “Tell me why I'm here. Lip won't.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where is he?” Mickey asks, avoiding that question because the one thing the doctor had said was don't tell him why just yet. He needs to come to terms with that on his own.</p><p> </p><p>“Lips grabbing supplies and whoever everyone else is.” Ian says, though undeterred at best, “Why am I here.”</p><p> </p><p>“You have no memory shithead.” Mickey says, bluntly.</p><p> </p><p>“If you loved me you'd tell me.” Ian spits, sounding thirteen.</p><p> </p><p>“Aye, fuck off Gallagher. You literally don't know shit about my love.” Mickey retorts.</p><p> </p><p>At that Ian bursts into tears, “Go away. Go way. O way.” he begs through heavy sobs, that turn into light and delicate hiccups. It kills Mickey to not lean in and wipe away Ian’s tears the way he usually does. WIth his sleeve, or sometimes if the mood is light enough after Ian cries, Mickey will lick up the salty tears.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey just sighs and complies, walking towards the door, “I'm getting coffee Ian, okay, I love you I'll be back.</p><p> </p><p>“Please please.” Ian begs, one hand covering his eye again.</p><p> </p><p>“Please what Ian?” Mickey asks softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Make it stop.” he begs, digging his palm into his eyes even further.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey Ian.” Mickey tries, walking back over but Ian just cries harder.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom, I want my mom.” Ian sobs. Not this again, fuck. Mickey thinks to himself. This broke his heart more than the rest. When Terry was torturing Ian, he couldn't get Ian to say he didn't love him, but in a backwards way he had succeeded because now Ian didn't even remember the love. </p><p> </p><p>Mickey is about to call for a nurse when a face walks in with Lip and Carl that is probably one of the last he faces wants to see behind Trump and Terry. Frank Gallagher.</p><p>——————————</p><p> </p><p>Frank Gallagher was a household name in the Southside of Chicago, Illinois (and probably some parts of Mexico and the greater Ontario area).</p><p> </p><p>He had seen a lot of things in his lifetimes. Drank a lot of beers. Lived 13 out of his nine lives. Sold prolific amounts of drugs. Panhandled his kids in a ponzi scheme.</p><p> </p><p>Was his parenting sketchy at best, yes actually. But no one could ever say that he loved Ian, who was technically his step-son/nephew, any less than his other four children (five if you count Sammi).</p><p> </p><p>Frank had changed Ian’s diapers (once or twice). Gotten up with him in the middle of the night (occasionally). Put whiskey on his gums after the age of five to put him to bed after a nightmare (more than occasionally). But in Frank’s book, he had fulfilled all the same requirements to be a father as he did for his other children. DNA test or not, Ian was HIS. </p><p> </p><p>Frank had watched, in a mix of drunk/high/both haziness, Ian grow from the freckled infant with that bush of red hair and a set of lungs crying as he was detoxed, to the two year old that constantly had fevers and followed Frank around on wobbly legs like the sun shone from Frank’s unwashed ass, to the ten year old with gap teeth and a lisp, to the fifteen year old he caught with Mickey Milkovich, to the seventeen year old who stole a baby and became just like Monica in everyone’s book even though Frank didn't see it, to the man who had thrown him off of a bridge after Frank called him a bipolar queer and ruined Fiona’s wedding, to the strong guy at his mother’s funeral telling a touching and funny story about Monica at a play that Ian was in, to the bipolar queer arson felon, to the man who was so inncently happy at his wedding to the love of his life that it made Frank cry, and finally to this. </p><p> </p><p>To the pale boy with an IV in his arm, wild eyes, bruises galore coloring the pale skin, and broken bones. For once, Frank wasn't thinking about stealing pain meds in a hospital room.</p><p> </p><p>Vee, much to his annoyance at the time, had woken him up with a bucket of cold water from his bed under the “L”. But when she told him Ian had been kidnapped by Terry and was now asking for his dad, Frank dropped the bag of weed he was planning on selling and left it there. Regardless of Ian’s paternal status, he was a Gallagher, and no one fucks with the Gallaghers.</p><p> </p><p>Now, seeing the Milkovich boy that Ian had dragged out of the closet and managed to make a semi-honest man out of hovering over Ian, trying to placate him as Ian screamed about wanting his mom. Frank feels it. Frank feels that ache in the part of his heart that's supposed to house parental instincts but it's swimming in alcohol and bad choices. </p><p> </p><p>“Dad.” Ian croaks, upon seeing him. And if Frank’s heart doesn't speed up with worry because Ian hasn't called Frank dad in over a decade, no one has. Except that bitch Sammi, but even Frank counted her out. Too snitchy on too many Gallagher boys.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian.” is all Frank can manage in return, standing in the limbo of the doorway noncommittally.</p><p> </p><p>Lip, who had ordered and staged this operation and extraction, nudged Frank forward with a death glare. </p><p> </p><p>“Dad.’ Ian cries again, holding the arm that isn't in a sling out, indicating that he wanted Frank to hold him.</p><p> </p><p>Something about that sprang Frank forward, “Ian, my boy.” Frank cheers, leaning over Ian and almost gasping in surprise when Ian throws his one arm around his back and cries into his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“They keep lying to me. They said mom is dead. She's not dead, she's not.” Ian sobs.</p><p> </p><p>Frank thinks about how to approach this for a second, “Ian.” he says, pulling away and looking the boy in the eye, “Do you want the truth?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Ian nods his head furiously, and shakes Lip away when he tries to wipe away the snot from Ian’s face like any parent would.</p><p> </p><p>“Moni died about three years ago. Brain hemorrhage. You two were close though and she died surrounded by you kids, knowing how much she was loved.” Frank tells him, leaving out Ian’s whereabouts at Monica’s time of death, as he squeezes one of Ian’s hands.</p><p> </p><p>Ian throws his head back and sobs for a minute. “Everyone fucking hates me, don't they.” Ian says, after a few minutes.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian how could you even say that?” Lip gasps.</p><p> </p><p>“Fiona and Debbie are gone. You're only here out of familial obligations and I'm about three seconds away from driving my husband who is a complete stranger to me away.” Ian says, sniffling slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Couldn’t drive me away if you tried Gallagher.” Mickey says, matter-of-factly.</p><p> </p><p>“Fiona is in Florida, we can call her if you want. And Debbie is in prison at the moment.” Frank admits.</p><p> </p><p>“Prision.” Ian wails.</p><p> </p><p>“Not as bad as it sounds.” Carl promises.</p><p> </p><p>“Did, did something bad happen to me, no one will tell me and the doctors won't let me look when they change the bandages between my legs?” Ian asks, voice cracking.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Ian, something bad did happen to you.” Frank admits.</p><p> </p><p>“Did I deserve it?” Ian croaks.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not, Ian. I promise you that, you did not deserve it. Okay kidd, we can talk about what happened later, but for now, I need you to do something for me.” Frank says, tapping the top of Ian’s nose.</p><p> </p><p>Ian nods at that.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you be good for the doctors and everyone. I heard you were a nightmare changing bandages this morning. Can you please try to be good, okay?” Frank asks. And surprisingly, Ian nods at that.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, did Frank just get Ian to listen.” Lip smirks.</p><p> </p><p>“Eff off, gentleman.” Frank says, straightening his shirt out.</p><p> </p><p>Carl follows him into the hallway and slips him a twenty after making sure that the door was closed.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you and au revoir.” Frank sings.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, it's fucking disgusting that you saw Ian like that and still took the twenty-dollars that Vee bribed you with to come here.” Carl snaps.</p><p> </p><p>Frank shrugs, “Mans gotta eat somehow. Ian did tug on my heart strings and I might have just done that for free, but twenty bucks is twenty bucks, and you offered.” Frank returns.</p><p> </p><p>“You sicken me.” Carl spits, turning away.</p><p> </p><p>Frank walks out of the hospital, twenty-bucks in hand, and uses it to order an Uber. His kids could be disgusted in him, that's okay, but he was busy trying to find Fiona’s number to get her to come back and see Ian because it wouldn’t be long until Ian remembered how shit Frank was and he deserved someone there that was better than him.</p><p>---------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>Lip stays for a while with Carl and they all watch a movie about some fucking dog that speaks. Mickey thinks that they do more harm than good, but they brought Ian a book that he liked when he as a preteen and he's lazilly flipping through the pages with one hand, stopping every so soften to massage his temples and close his eyes where they aches from being assaulted by the constant strain of reading and the hospital’s lighting.</p><p> </p><p>“Mick, are you even listening.” Lip says, annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry what's up?” Mickey asked, breaking his trance of watching Ian watch the book.</p><p> </p><p>“I said, are you good if Carl and I go get McDonald’s?” Lip asks, raising an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah man, sure whatever, go fuck off for all I care.” Mickey says.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I get some?” Ian asks, innocently and lightly.</p><p> </p><p>“You my buddy.” Lip says patronizingly as he ruffles Ian’s hair, “Can only eat the food that the nurses and dieticians here have carefully lined out to go with you meals. They'll bring you dinner later, but Carl and I haven't eaten all day. You at least had Jello and rice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not fair.” Ian grumbles.</p><p> </p><p>“Sucks to suck.” Lip laughs, kissing Ian’s forehead,”Try and nap, you have been up for a very long time.”</p><p> </p><p>Mickey didn't expect silence with his husband to be so awkward.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, you're usually a chatterbox.” Mickey reminds him.</p><p> </p><p>Ian flings his book down and flops his head back on the pillow dramatically. “I'm too tired.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then go to bed Ian.” Mickey says, gently and in an almost-whisper. Ian’s eyes scan his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Can't.” he admits.</p><p> </p><p>“Scared of nightmares?” Mickey teases.</p><p> </p><p>“I still get them?” Ian gasps, cheeks heating up red.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Mickey fumbles, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb, “But s’okay because I get 'em pretty bad too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” is all Ian can say. “Are you okay?” Ian asks, eyes widening and suddenly Mickey realizes he's not.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey is gasping for air and his chest is beginning to constrict. The edges of the room are growing black.</p><p> </p><p>“It's a panic attack. Put your head between your knees.” Ian sintructs, and something about that feels so “Mickey’s Ian” that Mickey has to comply.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you tell me five things that you see?” Ian asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Your dumb ass red hair.” Mickey pants, trying to calm himself for Ian’s benefit because the level of worry was rising in Ian’s voice. Soft mother fucker didn't care if he didn't really know Mick in this headspace, he just wanted to help.</p><p> </p><p>“Bed frame. Your white blankets. The window, s’ black out. And the yellow floor.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you hear?” Ian asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Your gravelly voice. The beeping from all your machines. The nurses in the hall. And thsi stupid Snoopy movie.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you feel?” Ian asks. All Mickey can think of is the cold metal of his wedding ring that burned him right now. “My ring. S’ it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you smell?”</p><p> </p><p>“You.” Mickey says, not caring if it made Ian uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>“I can't remember the fifth sense.” Ian admits.</p><p> </p><p>“S’okay, I feel better You've uh, always been good at that.” Mickey admits.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah? This me sounds cool.”</p><p> </p><p>“You wish.” Mickey smiles, lifting his head from his knees.</p><p> </p><p>“You really can't sleep?” Mick asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Nope.” Ian pops his “p”.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you trust me, just a little bit?” Mickey asks.</p><p> </p><p>Ian bites his lip, “A little.”</p><p> </p><p>“That's perfect. Can you trust me to help you for like ten seconds. You usually like this, and if you don't, I can stop right away, just say so.” Mickey says.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Ian agrees.</p><p> </p><p>“Lift up your hand for me. The good one.” Mickey murmurs softly. Ian raises his hand up and Mickey gently pushes it back against the pillow, so Ian’s hand is higher than his head and pinned back by Mickey’s arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, ready?” Mick asks. Ian nods, looking confused.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, Ian’s hospital gown was short sleeve, so Mickey places the tip of his index finger just below the hospital bracelet on Ian’s wrist. Then, he traces, from bracelet to the crook of Ian’s elbow. Back to the bracelet. Back down again, careful to avoid his IV.</p><p> </p><p>“Feel good?” Mickey asks, with a small smile. A content look of peace spread across Ian’s face and Mickey takes that as his cue to add a finger to the gentle massage.</p><p> </p><p>Tears begin to spill down Ian’s cheeks and Mickey instantly stops. “What's wrong?” Mickey asks, panicked.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm sorry.” Ian whispers.</p><p> </p><p>“Why Ian?” Mickey asks, eyes imploring.</p><p> </p><p>“I don't remember you. You deserve someone who does.” Ian cries.</p><p> </p><p>“Shhh, hey carrot-top. In case you haven't noticed, I haven't left your side. I could go and find another dopey red-head who looks like an alien any day, but I'm still here. Because I love you Ian, and that might freak you out because you don't feel any love for me back, but that's okay because I know that you did.” Mickey promises.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to love you, you seem like a dream, but I don't.” Ian confesses.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Ian, you're worth it okay. I don't care about the rest, we’ll make new memories. I'm just happy that you're okay.” Mickey coos, reaching out to brush the hair from Ian’s face but Ian just flinches and his face hardens, any evidence of Ian calming down instantly erased.</p><p> </p><p>“I miss my mom.” he sobs. “I wanna go home.”</p><p> </p><p>"Okay Gallagher. Im not going to let you go okay. Miss your mom, go ahead, but Im right here okay. Wont leave you I promise." Mickey swears.</p><p> </p><p>Ian cries harder at that shaking his head furiously and repeating, "Too much. Too much. Too much." Too much for the poor boy to process. Too much love for someone who was just caching up. Too much commitment for a thirteen-year-old.</p><p>“Shhh, shhh.” Mickey tries, but Ian just cries. And cries. And cries. He cries until the nurse who comes in has to slip a sedative into Ian’s arm. And just like the night before, Mickey dies when they do that. He dies a little more each time. Because his Ian was gone. Missing. Kidnapped. His Ian didn't come back to him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter will be better</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Better- Ben Platt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Comment what you think! Btw what happened to Iggy is supposed to by a mystery</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Enjoy! Written in thirty minutes so the spelling might not be perfect. I have no medical knowledge and I tend to skirt around the medical side of this story because of that, but I watched some Greys and tried my best. Also, who watched Shameless Hall of Shame? What'd you think? I, personally, loved it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 6- </p><p> </p><p>Lip Gallagher was not by any means a doctor. His brief training as an engineer at Chicago Polytech had made him take Bio101, but it was nowhere near enough medical knowledge to keep up with the lingo that was being thrown at him.</p><p> </p><p>Ironically, Tami, who had binged watched every season of “General Hospital”, was the most helpful in that she knew what the medical lingo meant, but little to nothing about it's practical application.</p><p> </p><p>Even Ian, who barely had basic algebra in his head, had cokced his head to the side in confusion when Tami had suggested giving Ian a triple bypass for his elbow, after asking if his concussion meant that he was tachy or brady cardiac.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey refused to hear anything the doctor had to see. Looking up at Lip with a look that was so vulnerably out-of-character that Lip had to give him a nod that meant that he would listen every time a doctor came in the room. Mickey’s eyes just glazed over and he started off into space everytime a doctor was involved. Mickey had never been one for science or believing in doctor’s, but now, he was completely out of his element.</p><p> </p><p>Lip was left spending his nights sleeplessly googling the recovery rate and speed of amnesia. It wasn't like over-board amnesia. The doctors ruled out any possibility of it coming from a psychiatric origin. They decided that there was nothing diagnosably wrong with his head. The official diagnosis they landed on was post-op-amnesia, but the doctor had hinted at brains needing time to recover from trauma sometimes. Folding in on themselves. Closing up shop for a bit. Sending the parts that needed protection the most from the current situation to the back of the mind where they could be safe from harm. But what diagnosis is that?</p><p> </p><p>He still wasn't sleeping on his own. The nurses had just resorted to slipping some sedatives into his night time pills. He was off the IV, but they still gave him a generous amount of pain pills. The psychiatrist had told them not even to touch the Bipolar medication yet. Give it another week because when, the psychiatrist was very optimistic about Ian’s memory, Ian’s memory came back, he would be in a state of confusion and trauma at all of the memories that he had forgotten that will result in needing anti-anxiety medication and a new routine of medication to combat the damage that Terry had done to Ian’s psyche. The psychiatrist has recommended a routine to the best of their ability for now. Food, pain meds, water, waking up, and settling in for bed at the same time approximately each day.</p><p> </p><p>Ian now spent his days reading or playing computer games with one hand. Lip had got him an old iPad and downloaded a few old and simplistic video games that could be played idly with one hand. These games went over well because Ian was a quick study and Crossy Road and Candy Crush could occupy anyone for a fair amount of time. They occupied Ian until his head started to hurt from the light of the device, and then he would cry frustratedly.</p><p> </p><p>Lip brought him Sudoku books, and those went over well because Ian liked the simplistic patterns of a puzzle that could be solved. Mickey was a lot better at them than Ian was and Lip could always see him struggling not to point out the simplistic answer that Ian’s bruised brain was missing. Those went over well until Ian got frustrated and tried to chuck the book, but that wasn't easy with only his right hand. Then he would get frustrated at the lack of dramatic throw that he was able to accomplish.</p><p> </p><p>It had been a week and a half, and Lip and Tami were back to work. So was Carl. So was Vee. But everyone still made the effort to visit Lip as often as possible.</p><p> </p><p>Lip had brought Fred, Franny, and Liam up again, and that had gone well-ish. Ian’s memory of Liam is essentially non-existent at best. </p><p> </p><p>Franny looks so much like Debbie that it confuses Ian to the point where he stares at her for most of the visit because he remembers Debbie being not much older than Franny. Franny is awfully confused and annoyed by the way that her uncle doesn't remember any of the names of any of the dinosaurs that she brought to play with him. Ian did his best to appease her just because he was always good with kids, but he struggled to keep up with the constant and new-moving wheel of information that was remembering the names of Franny’s toys. Even Franny’s favorite dinosaur- the orange one with green eyes that Franny had always called Ian.</p><p> </p><p>Good-naturedly, Ian had picked up Fred and held him when Lip held him out to Ian. But Ian got all silently confused and his arm ached from holding Fred to his side with one arm. Mickey had taken Fred from Ian when Fred’s socked foot kicked Ian in the stomach, and Ian had cringed and winced with the pain that this interaction had caused.</p><p> </p><p>And Liam, Lip could see how it was tearing him up inside to see his brother go silent and confused as he was overwhelmed by the youngest Gallagher child. Ian had always been a beacon of security and sensibility to Liam. He had stepped up when Fiona left and provided some much needed stability and integrated Liam into his daily life, taking the time to make him feel special.</p><p> </p><p>Lip rode the L home that night, depositing Liam and Franny with Sandy, who, to her own credit, had taken in Liam and Sandy full time with no complaints as she ran the Gallagher house-hold.</p><p> </p><p>Lip put a sleeping Fred in his crib. Tami was already out. And Lip felt the itch in his palm that could only be soothed by cold. The cold bottle as it condensated. The only alcohol in this house was rubbing and White Claw.</p><p> </p><p>But Lip couldn't. So he did the next best thing, he took a can of Pepsi, chilled it, popped it open, and cried. Cried with his head pressed into the dinner table like he used to do when he was a kid and Fiona would yell at him, but make him go to dinner.</p><p> </p><p>Ian never did that, Lip thought bitterly, he never hid his face and cried. He cried openly and free, Always stupidly brave. Gay kid on the south side that wasn't afraid to cry. That kid was gone.</p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>It had been a twelve-hour shift.</p><p> </p><p>Grandma jay-walking. Three kids drinking. Loitering. Possession. Frank behind an alley. Loitering. Possession. Possession. Frank again. Possession. An old racist lady who thought that the same postman who had been delivering her mail for a decade was a robber… for the third time this month, and finally to round out the day, a complaint about Frank in someone’s alley.</p><p> </p><p>Carl was exhausted, but it was only eight o’clock and he wanted to visit Ian, knowing he couldn't tomorrow between work and taking Franny for Sandy.</p><p> </p><p>The physical therapist had started today and that, for Ian at least, essentially consisted of her making him walk a few steps with a walker while Mickey watched like a guard dog, moving his shoulder under the PT’s careful guide, and then getting his shoulder and knee massaged and left with icy-hot packs, som extra Jello, and a pat on the head. </p><p> </p><p>Lip wasn't coming until night because he's working late at the shop to fix some Harley and Tami needed Lip to take Fred with her. Everyone else was busy, doing drugs, or moving on with their lives.</p><p> </p><p>But Carl couldn't. And he noticed that Mickey couldn't either.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” Carl calls softly, holding out a burger to mickey as a silent peace offering. Mickey would just let Carl coexist and Carl wouldn't bug Mickey to leave the hotel room. </p><p> </p><p>Ian’s eyes snapped up and then rolled, semi-playfully, “Right in front of me?” he whines, but his voice sounds weak.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you feelin?” Carl asks.</p><p> </p><p>Ian just looks at Carl and gives a sigh. A long and defeated sigh before flicking his eyes back to the television where Ian was watching, well technically rewatching, Stranger Things as Mickey poured over hospital paperwork.</p><p> </p><p>Carl has used all of his fresh-copclout to get the detectives to hold off on grilling Ian until his brain is back in order. They had sent a public defense lawyer to talk to Mickey in the hallway, and the lawyer had advised Mickey to not pay a cent in hospital bills because there would be lawsuits and court cases and Ian stood to benefit from a huge settlement once those were over.</p><p> </p><p>Carl had personally seen Terry at the holding cell in his station. He had personally spit in Terry’s face and no one else said a word. To their credit, the detectives in the station were awfully nice considering that Ian was Carl’s older brother and they had all heard about the gruesome details of the case. A homophobic asshole kidnapping and torturing his son-in-law for an entire week while broadcasting it to one son and making the other help.</p><p> </p><p>“PT wiped him out today.” Mickey explains softly. </p><p> </p><p>Carl sits down in the chair across from Mickey on the other side of Ian’s bed and the pair raise their respective burgers at each other and nodded- cheers.</p><p> </p><p>Ian, without breaking eye contact with the demi-gorgons on screen, said, “I can't believe you're wearing a pig uniform. I would have thought you'd be on the other side of the cell.”</p><p> </p><p>“He was almost at West Point too.” Mickey remarks.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Ian asks, with a twist of his face like he was surprised and confused, but also hurt. Touchy subject. They were advised not to tell Ian that he was BIpolar unless it became apparently necessary, but Mickey had told him that he didn't qualify for West Point because of Ian’s mental health, and that caused a fight when Mickey refused to elaborate,</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you kind of inspired me to do it. You used to train with me and go on runs. Taught me all the different hand grips and shit. I graduated from military high school.” Carl says.</p><p> </p><p>“I inspired you?” Ian asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah man always, you've always been the most proud of me and least judgemental when it comes down to it.” Carl says.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh.” Ian sighs, snuggling back into his pillow.</p><p> </p><p>“You uh.” Carl says quickly, desperate to get Ian to keep talking, “Saved my life once. I sold a lot of meth and these guys tried to drown me in the hot tub and you stopped them.”</p><p> </p><p>“That's nice.” Ian drones, not looking back at Carl. Carl feels something like desperation as Ian’s attention span slipped through his fingers like sand. He didn't realize just how much he missed Ian’s attention. Carl may have been and adult, but Ian and Mickey slipped into the role of “De facto Gallagher Guardians” and now Ian lost his mind completely and Mickey was basically a stone wall of grief planted next to Ian’s bed like a lamp.</p><p> </p><p>“And you helped me throw Frank off the bridge after he ruined Fiona’s wedding.” Carl continues.</p><p> </p><p>“Fun.”</p><p> </p><p>“You taught me to drive in Mickey’s brother’s stolen car.” Carl says.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm sure I did.”</p><p> </p><p>Carl’s about had it. He stands up and grabs the remote from where it rests, balanced on the bed rail and flicks the television off.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck?” Ian deadpans.</p><p> </p><p>“You're not even listening to me. I spend so much of my time here, so does Mick and so does Lip and it's like you don't even want to hear.” Carl snaps.</p><p> </p><p>Ian chews his lip for a second, “You think I want to hear about the life that I missed. All the fun and laughs that a guy wearing my body and using my voice had? All the shit I can't remember breaks my heart. Cut me some slack.” Ian spits.</p><p> </p><p>“All anyone ever does is cut you slack!” Carl screams.</p><p> </p><p>“Carl, I can't walk more than three steps. I can't sleep on my own without sleeping pills that make my dreams a sleeping nightmare, and I wake up to a waking nightmare. I have fa* carved on my stomach. I'm never going to be able to go to the beach again. I lost a decade of my life. The insides of my thighs are all bruised and so are my insides, so I was clearly assaulted. And the kicker, no one will tell me what happened. I haven't been cut slack, I've been hit with the god damn slackline.” Ian snaps.</p><p> </p><p>And at that Carl breaks, collapsing back into his chair, placing his elbows on Ian’s hospital bed and collapsing into tears.</p><p> </p><p>“I just want my big brother back.” he sobs.</p><p> </p><p>A hand moves out to Carl’s back, tentatively , and gently pats his shoulder blades. Carl’s head snaps up at this. Ian has shifted towards Carl's chair enough to get his right hand over to Carl, who was on Ian’s left.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm trying Carl okay. I promise, I'm trying as hard as I can to remember. I'm so sorry.” Ian breathes.</p><p> </p><p>And Carl got it. Ian couldn't remember much, but he was afraid of anyone touching him. He was so hesitant about physical touch since he woke up and that was so extremely out of character for the red-head.</p><p> </p><p>But Carl got it. How important it was that Ian was physically reaching out to him. He was really the first one that Ian had actually touched voluntarily. That wasn't a baby thrust into his one arm or a nurse making him squeeze their hand to show how his left hand works. This was Ian trying to comfort someone, and Carl appreciated it. More than anything.</p><p> </p><p>“Shhh.” Ian blows out a breathy and comforting exhale as Carl melts into his touch. He just wanted his brother back.</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------</p><p>Frank Gallagher had been dumpster diving all day. He finally found what he was looking for- coke. He sold the coke in another alley. Used the money to buy a phone and a knock off Gucci belt. Used the “Cucci” belt to bribe Kevin into giving him Fiona’s number and hightailed it out of there before Vee told Kev to sound out what the belt said.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello.” her voice picks up.</p><p> </p><p>“Fiona.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking Frank I'm hanging up-” She snaps.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian. Please wait, it's about Ian.” Frank begs.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian? What's up with Ian. I know he's married now. I spoke to him last month on the phone, I had been meaning to call home any day, I just haven't gotten around to it. Is he okay?” Fiona panics.</p><p> </p><p>“No, he's not.”</p><p> </p><p>“What happened!?” she raps.</p><p> </p><p>“Terry Milkovich kidnapped him. Bashed him for a week and sent the live tapes of it happening to Mick. Now he's in the hospital with a million bruises and amnesia. He woke up crying for Moni and I. That's how much of his brain got burnt out.” Frank explains.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it just temporary?”</p><p> </p><p>“They don't know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus fuck Frank.” she breathes.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus fuck is right. Ian doesn't deserve it. Too innocent. I've always been proud of him.” Frank admits.</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn't you tell him that when it mattered?” Fiona asks, and Frank doesn't know. He never does.</p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p>The next day Lip was talking to Mickey and Ian about the new bikes in the shop when Ian had suddenly snapped. No warning. </p><p> </p><p>His hands covered his ears and his eyes squeezed shut so painfully tight like someone was blasting music and lights in his face. Tears streamed down his cheeks and a nurse frantically worked with Mickey and Ian to calm him down.</p><p> </p><p>“Out. Out. Please.” Ian begs.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian, I'm not leavin ya.” Mickey says.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no , no. Nurse. Please I want to be alone. They're scaring me.” Ian screams.</p><p> </p><p>The nurse had no choice but to kick them out to appease Ian. It was his choice, after all.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey steps into the hallway with Ian and dissolves in heavy belly laughter. Tearing his hair out like The Joker.</p><p> </p><p>“Mick, Mick stop.” Lip begs.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“It should have been me.” Mickey roars, no longer laughing maniacally.</p><p> </p><p>“Mickey, Ian wouldn't have survived if something happened to you.” Lip explains.</p><p> </p><p>“I deserve it more than he does.” Mickey cries again.</p><p> </p><p>“No one does.”</p><p> </p><p>“That isn't my husband in there. That's not my Ian.” Mickey shouts, face red, panting, and chest heaving. Mickey just looks at Lip for a second before crumpling against the floor, nurses staring be damned, and dissolving into sobs. </p><p> </p><p>Lip slides next to him and pats his shoulder comfortingly.</p><p>“He's not our Ian, but Ian’s in there. He laughs the same, he sneezes the same, and he's even just as dramatic, but our Ian is in there.”</p><p> </p><p>“As bad as it sounds, sometimes when he cries, I close my eyes and imagine that it's Ian in my bed after a nightmare. An easy nightmare about something that I can assure him on. This, I can't fix.” Mickey admits.</p><p> </p><p>“When he's sleeping, you almost can't tell.” Lip agrees.</p><p> </p><p>“Especially now that the welt on his face is gone.” Mickey concurs.</p><p> </p><p>“He's gonna come back to us. I know it.” Lip says, squeezing Mick’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“He is back, that's the problem. His brain isn't.” Mick says.</p><p> </p><p>“S’not your fault Mickey. I promise.” Lip says, even though he couldn't really make that kind of promise.</p><p> </p><p>---------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Mickey falls asleep in a chair in the waiting room, waiting for his blessing from Gabrielle, the head nurse, to let Mickey back in. The entire hospital staff was more than understanding of the situation. </p><p> </p><p>A tiny nurse, maybe twenty at best, just like Ian, taps Mickey’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Small, blonde, glasses, ponytail, she looked like she could get eaten by a fifth grade. “Mr. Milkovich?” she squeaks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that's me.” Mickey says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Gabrielle said to come get you if Ian gives trouble changing his bandages.” she squeaks.</p><p> </p><p>“A’right. I'm comin.” Mick agrees, groggily pulling himself to his feet.</p><p> </p><p>The tiny nurse, Tina, as her name tag says, leads Mickey through the hallways that he knows by heart.</p><p> </p><p>“What part did you get up to?” Mick asks.</p><p> </p><p>“His stomach.” she answers, shyly.</p><p> </p><p>“His stomach? So you did his thighs, arms, and knee without him kicking you out. That's impressive.” Mickey says, genuinely impressed.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, I just asked him to talk about his family and he talked for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, he tends to babble about them. How old are you?” Mickey asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Twenty-three.” she answers.</p><p> </p><p>“That's how old my husband is. He's usually not this bratty. I'm sorry for his behavior.” Mickey apologizes.</p><p> </p><p>“No need. Honestly, if I had gone through what he had, I'd be even worse.” she says, as they approach the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, me too.” Mickey breathes.</p><p> </p><p>“Gallagher.” Mickey calls with a smile, upon entering the doorway. Ian looked up at Mickey, frantic and teary, but he instantly calmed down when he saw Mickey, and Mickey thought, at least he hoped, a smile was tugging at the corner of his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Mickey.” Ian says, sounding like he was surprised. </p><p> </p><p>“‘’M sorry I kicked you out.” Ian mumbles, staring at his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“That's okay , mumbles. I told you that I wasn't going anywhere and I meant it. You're stuck with me by law.” Mickey says, holding up his wedding ring, as if he needed to prove it to Ian. “Now, Tina says you keep giving her a hard time with the bandage changing Gallags. You were doing so good too.” </p><p> </p><p>Ian looks up at Mickey like a wounded puppy, but Ian seems to melt at Mickey’s words. “It really hurt when she changed my knee.” Ian admits.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey pulls up the chair next to Ian’s bed, a chair that essentially had Mickey’s ass-print tattooed on it. Mickey holds out a tentative hand to Ian’s forehead and holds it hovering over his head. Ian stares at him for a few seconds and nods.</p><p> </p><p>That nod lights up Mickey’s world. His skin has been itching at the loss of contact with Ian’s skin. He doesn't care how brief, the fact that Ian is letting Mickey, a man who Ian only remembers knowing for almost a week, touch him when he won't even let his older brother touch him is huge.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey smooths over the hair on Ian’s forehead, combing it with his fingers. Ian’s eyes slide closed and he lets out a semi-content sigh and this is the best progress that Mickey has had since that morning in bed before Terry kidnapped Ian.</p><p> </p><p>“I know freckles. I know. She said she finished your knee though, you just have to sit through her changing the bandages on your stomach.” Mickey promises, still hesitant combing his fingers through Ian’s hair.</p><p> </p><p>“I hate getting the bandaid on my stomach changed.” Ian grumbles.</p><p> </p><p>“Why, Grumpy Smurf?” Mickey implores.</p><p> </p><p>“I hate looking at that word and not knowing who cut it on me, and taking the bandage off is ticklish.” Ian lamented.</p><p> </p><p>Smiling, because that was such an Ian problem, but frowing because of why Ian had that problem, Mickey steadies himself to comfort Ian. Mickey sighs deeply, wishing he could inhale the scent of Ian's hair without things being weird, “I know Gallagher. I know.” Mickey says, softly, “But it's important okay. I promise I'll tell you super soon okay, but it's one of those things that I can't untell you. Here trust me on this, usually at the doctor I give you my hand and you play with my fingers to distract you from the examination.”</p><p> </p><p>Mickey removes his one hand from Ian’s hair because Ian was starting to get twitchy and hold his flat palm out to Ian.</p><p> </p><p>Ian traces patterns on Mickey’s palm and wiggles Mickey’s fingers back and forth, looking scrutinizingly at Mickey’s hand as he studied it. His brows working overtime in confusion as to why it calmed him down.</p><p> </p><p>To her credit, she was good at taking off the bandage carefully without scraping Ian’s skin too often or ripping it off like that one bitch nurse does.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey subtly moves his head in front of Ian’s eye sight when the nurse pulls off the bandaid and rubs his abdomen with cleaning pads. She manages to get through it with minimal squirming and complaining on Ian’s part, as he is mostly subdued by playing with Mickey’s fingers.</p><p> </p><p>Ian’s ribs are starting to become less prominent and high stomach is slowly getting less concave.</p><p> </p><p>Tina leaves with Ian’s wounds wrapped up in new and sterile neon white gauze.</p><p> </p><p>Ian yawns and Mickey can't help but smile at the way Ian’s whole face scrunches up when he yawns.</p><p> </p><p>“Tired, red?” Mickey asks.</p><p> </p><p>“You have a lot of nicknames for me. There funny.” Ian says.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Firecrotch? I call you lots of things that I come up with on the fly. Clumsy, Peppermint Patrick, pepper, gingerbread, carrots, firetop, crash.” Mickey pauses, tapping his chin like he's deep in thought, “El Gingero.”</p><p> </p><p>Ian let's out a tiny and hesitant giggle at that and Mickey feels the creases at the corners of his eyelids melt. “That funny to your ginger ass?” Mickey fake-growls.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Ian says through a tiny giggle. All Mickey can do is sigh and smirk at Ian.</p><p> </p><p>“You weirdly know what I need.” Ian says after a minute of content silence. The air feel the lightest that it has in forever.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I better after all this time. You always know what I need without me asking too.” Mickey says.</p><p> </p><p>“Like what?” Ian implores, sounding like a kid in a candy store at the outlandish prospect of someone taking the time to know him. </p><p> </p><p>“For nightmares, we kind of developed a system without ever talking about it. You've always been a cuddler. I guess your dramatic ass middle child syndrome kicked into overdrive and you didn't get enough hugs as a kid, but you always want physical contact- it's what soothes you the quickest. You like to be held and sometimes if I do it quick enough you won't even wake up. When you have a nightmare you want cuddles and gentle kisses. And you know that if I wake up screaming, I'll reach out if I want to be held. What I need is kind of a reminder that you're there. You usually hold up your wedding ring and wiggle it and stare me in the eyes, smiling all creepy and reassuring. You uh usually ask me if I want to talk about it, but never push. You always just seem to know what I need and when. I mean, you used to. The old you or whatever fucking version you used to be.” Mickey says.</p><p> </p><p>“Was our wedding nice?” Ian asks.</p><p> </p><p>“The best day of my life.” Mickey admits.</p><p> </p><p>Ian yawns again, “Tell me about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well you're foot was broken from, well a long story. And we had the crazy Jesus cult guarding the front door from, well long story. And there was a fire at our wedding venue that morning so we had to get married at the Polish Doll.” Mickey starts.</p><p> </p><p>Ian settles into his pillow and smiles when Mickey pulls the blankets up to Ian’s shoulders. “Is that the one with the old homophobic lady that Frank slept with?” Ian asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah!” Mickey cheers. “You picked this cheesy ass Etta May song to walk down the aisle too. I did the walking down the aisle because your foot was broken. We had a cake with two grooms having doggie-style-sex.”</p><p> </p><p>Ian smiles at that.</p><p> </p><p>“And we had to lie and say that I was marrying Debbie so she wore a wedding dress and had to distract the lady in the kitchen while we said our vows. And we danced to Ed Sheeran, we will listen to him again someday. And Liam stole a fancy ass Porche or some shit from Frank who stole it from some rich lady that kidnapped Frank for being Frank. And Frank? He cried at our wedding. Real ass tears and everything.” Mickey says, but he notices that the green eyes that were locked on his blue ones have fluttered closed. This is the first time he fell asleep naturally since he woke up.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey can't help but lean forward and place a teary kiss on Ian’s pale forehead, hoping he doesn't wake up Mickey whispers, “I love you Ian, even more than I did that day.”</p><p>---------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Three days later, everyone had come for lunch. It had now been fifteen days since Ian was kidnapped and about seven since he woke up.</p><p> </p><p>The past three nights, Mickey and Lip have told Ian stories at night, always taking his cue to see what he wants to hear about first, and Ian has fallen asleep like a baby hearing “Goodnight Moon” everytime. He hasn't had a nightmare that wakes him up screaming and crying in four days now, so Mickey is hesitant to wake him up when everyone gets here, instructing them to “shut the fuck up and let the ginger get a few more minutes of beauty sleep”. He deserved it.</p><p> </p><p>Sandy had brought Franny and Liam up. Carl had come up. Vee and Kev were here. Lip Tami and Fred were all here. And as always, Mickey was planted next to Ian’s bedside.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone chattered about nonsense idly and Mickey just gazed at his husband, feeling proud. Laughing at Kev’s jokes and sipping the Vodka that Sandy had smuggled in the hospital via paper coffee cups.</p><p> </p><p>Ian’s eyes began to flutter behind his eyelids and Mickey felt his heart settle, “Morning sleeping beauty.” Mickey coos.</p><p> </p><p>But Ian begins to trash and etars leak from his sleeping eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Not this shit again, Gallags.” Mickey sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“Shhhh.” Mickey coos, sifting a gentle hand through Ian’s hair as the chatter in the room begins to slow.</p><p> </p><p>Ian’s emerald eyes fly open at an impressive speed and he bolts upright in bed. Pressing his back as far against the wall as it will go, his eyes as wide and terrified as they were the first time that he woke up.</p><p> </p><p>“Ahhh.” Ian screams, chest heaving.</p><p> </p><p>“Easy, easy, Ian calm down.” Mickey instructs him, putting two hands up in mock surrender. </p><p> </p><p>Ian’s eyes rake up and down Mickey as he takes him in.</p><p> </p><p>“Mickey?” Ian gasps.</p><p> </p><p>“That's my name.” Mickey says.</p><p> </p><p>Ian surprises everyone by reaching out for Mickey’s hand and yanking it closer to his own as he practically hyperventilates in sobs.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian, Ian calm down.” Mickey coos, squeezing Ian’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>Lip passes Fred off and appears at Ian’s other side, “Hey bud. You're good.” Lip coaxes.</p><p> </p><p>“Don't touch me, Lip.” Ian spits.</p><p> </p><p>“Woah!” Mickey and Lip exclaim at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>“Mick, you don't… you don't… understand.” Ian manages through sobs.</p><p> </p><p>“What don't I understand Ian?” Mickey asks, patiently.</p><p> </p><p>“Mick, I remember.” Ian gasps.</p><p> </p><p>“I remember it all Mick. All of it. Terry. Us. The kidnapping. It's all there.” Ian gets out in sobs. Mickey’s eyes fly open in horror at the terror in Ian’s eyes, and all he can do is rub Ian’s back with his freehand. Ian seems to be trying to pull Mickey even closer and Mickey is already tipping over Ian’s bedside.</p><p> </p><p>Carl is the first to process that, “You remember?” Carl blinks, stepping closer.</p><p> </p><p>“All of it.” Ian sobs, “I remember that morning, I remember the camera, I remember the handcuff, and I remember his friend Robert holding me down. Iggy? Where's Iggy?” Ian sobs in hysterics.</p><p> </p><p>“Shhhhh.” Mickey soothes, rubbing his back in circles, still.</p><p> </p><p>After about a minute of stunned silence, Ian looks up, throat full of tears. “Get out.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Lip asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone out.” Ian shouts, and Mickey instinctively pulls away but Ian just pulls him closer. Impossibly so.</p><p> </p><p>“Carl can stay too, but everyone else gets out.” Ian cries.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey cradles Ian’s cheek, letting the light orange stubble scratch his fingers gladly as Ian’s breath, warm and panicked, ghosts over Mickey’s fingers. </p><p> </p><p>Franny and Fred don't understand.</p><p> </p><p>Liam, for all of his smarts doesn't either.</p><p> </p><p>Vee and Kev do.</p><p> </p><p>Sandy does.</p><p> </p><p>Tami doesn't really, but she follows Lip.</p><p> </p><p>Lip gets it, but it tears him in two.</p><p> </p><p>Right now, Ian had all of the horrors that Terry had bestowed upon him playing in Ian’s head like a movie.</p><p> </p><p>Over.</p><p> </p><p>And over.</p><p> </p><p>And over.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Leave a comment, let me know what you think. Am I heading in the right direction? Want to see more of someone? More interaction between who? Less of something? Let me know!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. O' Children- Nick Cave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I wrote this at 2am, let me know how you feel. The endings rushed, but overall I enjoyed writing it.  This break from school has given me so much time to focus on writing for fun and I love it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter seven- </p><p>In essence, Mickey Milkovich had lost his husband. He had lost his husband and gained a koala. Ian barely ever let go of Mickey; like he was the one that had been kidnapped and letting Mickey out of his sight would lead to his permanent disappearance.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey didn't really mind because he was lucky to even have Ian back. Was lucky to have had him in the first place. Lucky he woke up. Lucky Terry didn't kill him. Lucky he remembered Mickey.</p><p> </p><p>Ian seemed to have the same aversion to touch, but he now had two distinct exceptions to the rule; if Ian initiated first it was okay and if Mickey tried then it was okay.</p><p> </p><p>But even so, Mickey found himself having to ask for consent for the most basic of physical gestures if Ian didn't initiate it. Not always consent with words- more like Mickey would place one finger on Ian’s back, let him get used to it and have time to say no or shake Mickey off, and then Mickey would add another finger.</p><p> </p><p>Every blood draw, bandage change, and needle poke were met with less aversion, but Mickey had to be in the room for these events or it was a no go. When Mickey was in the room, Ian allowed the doctors to do what they pleased with minimal to moderate squirms and complaints, but he mainly just let it happen.</p><p> </p><p>Usually, Ian was cool with changing bandages as long as Mickey held his hand or he put his head on Mickey’s lap. The first time that Mickey had sat cross legged at the head of Ian’s bed and tried to get him to lay his heads on Mickey’s lap so Mickey could massager his scalp, Ian had freaked out and Mickey couldn't understand exactly why. Then, Ian had placed a pillow on Mickey’s lap and Mickey had swallowed down the guilt and shame that piled up in his throat in favor of appreciating the way that the ginger had tried to be his old-self with accommodations. So Ian wasn't cool with any part of him touching phallic organs yet, at least he was self-aware and trying to improve upon it by making his own modifications.</p><p> </p><p>There was a stark difference in the Ian that didn't remember and the Ian that did. When Ian didn't remember, he allowed himself to get distracted by activities like puzzles, shows, and books. Ian post-amnesia seemed to have a weight on his freckled shoulders that killed Mickey to see. Constantly staring off, always seeming far away. The nightmares that caused Ian to scream and kick were becoming less frequent, but the tears streaming down Ian’s face in sleep were always a given now.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, Mickey was no longer sleeping in that damn chair. He was now squishing in the hospital bed, Ian tucked carefully at his side. The close proximity allowed Mickey and Ian to constantly take comfort in each other's presence and it reminded Ian of that domestic stint when they used to share a bed in the boy’s bedroom in the Gallagher house after Ian came back after the whole Bipolar thing came to a head. Mickey was just as happy to squish with Ian now as he was the night that Ian came home from the psychiatric hospital.</p><p> </p><p>Ian had been cold towards pretty much everyone but Mickey and surprisingly Carl. Mickey supposed it has something to do with the fact that Carl was always easiest to get along with and he was the only one that Ian wasn't fighting with the day that Terry took him. But Ian would tolerate Carl above everyone else but Mickey. If Mickey needed to go home and get clothes or grab a shower, Ian would be okay to stay with Carl for a little bit. </p><p> </p><p>They had switched Ian’s medications and the switch had proved to come with some adverse side-effects. Constant nausea, throwup, and high fevers accompanied this particular cocktail. After three days, Ian wasn't keeping down food and he was back on his IV and on his way to being tubed, so the psychiatrist, at Mickey’s not-so-gentle-request, switched Ian’s meds up before the two-week window that they usually make you wait before switching.</p><p> </p><p>Today marked the three-week anniversary of Ian being kidnapped. His boss at work had been more than gracious about Mickey missing his tattoo appointments, and Ian’s bosses understood that kidnapping and amnesia was taking him out for the count for a while.</p><p> </p><p>It had been an okay day. Ian definitely needs the crutches, but he's learning to walk relatively well considering he just had knee surgery. The PT had tried to give Ian a walker, but Ian had really just rolled his eyes at that stating that “I'm not that damaged”, so they settled on crutches. There really was a six-week recovery time to be followed, but for a third of the way into that, Ian was doing okay.</p><p> </p><p>Currently, Ian was dozing off at Mickey’s left side, Ian’s head nestled in the crook of his elbow. Ian’s bad leg propped up on mickey’s using it as support. Mickey absent-mindedly stroked through Ian’s hair with one hand while lazily flicking his eyes from Ian’s sleeping face to the television show that's flickering light illuminated Ian’s face.</p><p> </p><p>That's when he noticed it. A new and possibly old habit that Ian had picked up. Sucking his thumb while he sleeps. The slightly regressive behavior was never noticed by Ian, and Mickey didn't want him to feel embarrassed by finding out, so he did his best to pull Ian’s hand from his mouth whenever he saw. Lip had told Mickey that he doesn't remember if Ian did that as a child or not. He had asked Fiona and Fiona said that either Ian or Carl sucked their thumb from the stage at infancy when Frank had lost the boys only pacifier till about six-years-old, but Fiona couldn't remember which boy it was.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey stares at his husband who was so innocently obliviously to the habit that he had picked up. Mickey thought long and hard about the easy that his face seemed to ease up just a little bit, and the thought of the look of red hot embarrassment that would appear on the red-head’s freckles as his husband’s green eyes flicked downwards was enough to make Mickey’s heart ache even if Mickey himself didn't see the harm in the habit. Maybe many moons ago Mickey would have made fun of Ian for this, but now? How could Mickey make fun of him when the entire reason that his husband was resorting to this habit was because of the stress that being kidnapped by Mickey’s father because of Ian’s relationship to Mickey had caused. How could Mickey make fun of that.</p><p> </p><p>So, Mickey gently tugs on Ian’s hand, pulling his thumb from his mouth with a <em> pop </em> sound. Mickey briefly considered replacing Ian’s thumb with his own just to see what would happen, but he felt that would be weird especially since Ian didn't know that it was occurring and that would only enable the habit.</p><p> </p><p>Ian’s blank and youthful face is tinted with crinkles of a frown, but he stays sleeping. Mickey interlaces Ian’s one uncasted hand with his own, spit be damned. Mickey was just lucky to have the red-head here, and he thinks that he has had plenty of Ian’s spit all over him.</p><p> </p><p>Five more days pass before Ian’s team of doctors can finally agree on signing Ian’s release papers. They were beginning to feel like that band of ten dentists that could only ever get nine to agree on anything.</p><p> </p><p>Five more days of tears. Of watching Ian stare off like something on the wall is interestingly haunting him. Kev and Vee stopped showing up after the day Ian remembered. Sandy and Tami stopped showing up, and by extension Fred, Liam, and Franny stopped coming. Only Lip, Carl, and Mickey remained. And most days, Ian didn't trust Lip. He didn't trust much of anyone except Mickey, and sometimes Carl.</p><p> </p><p>The clothes Ian had been wearing had been taken as evidence, so Mickey had gotten a pair of Ian’s grey sweats, a large black hoodie, and Lip’s sneakers to wear home. Ian had dropped weight from the entire ordeal, but the bulkiness of the two casta made up for it. </p><p> </p><p>Tami let Mickey borrow her car to drive Ian back to South Wallace for the occasion. She left it in the parking lot and took the El home, not wanting to intrude on moments where she knows she isn't particularly welcomed.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey tries to threaten the Gallaghers from throwing a “welcome home from being kidnapped and having an amnesiac episode party” but it fell on deaf ears and Mickey was emotionally prepared to see a “welcome home from being kidnapped and having an amnesiac episode” cake.</p><p> </p><p>Ian got parting gifts. Crutches. Bandages for Mickey to change. Orange prescription bottles. Follow up appointments. A psychiatric evaluation prescription. And finally, the nurse had given Mickey a final orange bottle from the hospital pharmacy; sleeping pills. An essential sedative to be used at home. The thought of Ian’s nightmares occurring to the point where he needs them while sleeping in their shared bed, sickened Mickey. </p><p> </p><p>Ian was quiet about going home. He was quiet in the car, seeming subdued and resting his head against the cold glass, staring out the window. He didn't seem excited or scared or nervous- he just seemed. That was it. Mickey couldn't get a good read on him and that scared Mickey. Ian was supposed to be the easiest to read for Mickey, and now Ian seemed to retreat behind his own thoughts, his eyes glazing over again and again and again like folding in on his mind would protect him. Like a turtle into its shell.</p><p> </p><p>However, when Mickey reached out and interlaced Ian’s fingers with his own after tapping an index finger against Ian’s wrist as a test to check how receptive the red-head was to touch, Ian interlocked their fingers- squeezing their index fingers together.</p><p> </p><p>That was a signal that Mickey had invented back when Ian worked at the club. If at any point Ian interlocked their index fingers and squeezed, that was a signal that Ian was getting overwhelmed and wanted to go home.</p><p> </p><p>Now the gesture felt like an echo because what was home? Ian had always had a strong sense of home no matter how fucked up his home was. But Mickey? His home was Ian. Home in a to-go-cup; Ian Gallagher. Ian was under his skin, tattooed on his skin, and tucked away in every crevice of his brain. Ian and him were one.</p><p> </p><p>So when Ian squeezed their index fingers, Mickey just squeezed back and focused on getting them there. For once, he stopped at every stop sign and didn't even blow the red light four blocks away that's essentially a decoration. He had vowed nearly four weeks ago that Ian would never get hurt by him again, and he wasn't about to kill him in a car crash after all of this.</p><p> </p><p>Predictably, there were multiple cars outside the Gallagher residence and lights on inside. </p><p> </p><p>“You think they got you welcome from being kidnapped decorations?” Mickey quips as he parks the car, and walks to Ian’s side to help him out.</p><p> </p><p>Ian thinks about it pensively for a few seconds before nodding, “They got me a welcome home cake when I got out of prison for arson, so I figure probably.”</p><p> </p><p>“Spoiled ass brat.” Mickey sighs, kissing the top of Ian’s head as he leans over to help him out of the car, “I never got any welcome home from prison cakes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which time?” Ian quips.</p><p> </p><p>“Firecrotch, I will drive you back to the hospital and leave you there like an orphaned baby if you don't drop the attitude.” Mickey teases.</p><p> </p><p>Ian knew he was kidding, but he still holds Mickey tight as he's helped to his feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Don't leave me.” Ian whispers, feeling a little desperate. </p><p> </p><p>Mickey laughs, wiping sweat off of his brow and handing Ian the crutches that were stowed beside him in the passenger seat, “You're stuck with me for life red. For life.” Mickey reiterates, looking Ian in the eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Lip jogs out and helps carry in all of the medication and supplies that Mickey couldn't carry while Mickey focuses on slinging an arm around Ian’s shoulder and helping him crutches along. Ian would be pretty much normal with crutches if he didn't have that cast on his arm. That severely hindered his ability to properly get around on crutches.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, Carl had to come out and sling an arm around Ian’s other shoulder to help him manage the stairs. Mickey groans inwardly thinking about how their bedroom is on the top floor of the Gallagher couch, but Ian was too proud to take the couch and he deserved to sleep in his own bed after everything.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus would it kill ya to shrink an inch or two Goliath?” Mickey quips as Ian wobbly hops up the steps, not being able to crutch up them. Lip stands behind Ian for support.</p><p> </p><p>Ian’s face burns red over the freckles as he makes his way up the front steps to the open Gallagher door. He can hear the multiple voices chattering away idly and music playing. Right now Ian wished he was alone with Mickey.</p><p> </p><p>“There ya go bud.” Lip says, patting his shoulders as Ian makes it to the top step. Ian shrugs him off and casts Lip a look that sends his older brother slinking inside.</p><p> </p><p>When Ian walks through the front door, everyone goes quiet.</p><p> </p><p>“Surprise.” Franny shouts, jumping up in the air.</p><p> </p><p>Sandy pokes her in the ribs, “It's not the kind of party Fran.”</p><p> </p><p>“S’not a party at all.” Mickey quips back.</p><p> </p><p>Ian pauses for a minute, carefully observing all of the faces before him. Gemma, Amy, Kev, Vee, Frank, Carl, Lip, Tami, Brad, Cami, Fred, Brad’s baby, Franny, Sandy, and Liam. </p><p> </p><p>Liam comes barreling into Ian’s legs, stopping only to sidestep his bad knee before hugging his brother’s legs.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian I missed you.” Liam squeals. Ian feels his chest heave, but he takes a deep and steadying breath as he pats Liam’s head awkwardly, loving his little brother but not ready for this level of affection. Feeling so overwhelmed, overworked, and overstimulated.</p><p> </p><p>“I missed you too Li, I love you and we’ll talk later okay? Boy scouts promise.” Ian swears, and Liam gets the hint and backs up a little bit so Ian makes sure to mouth “love you” at his little brother.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah shit.” sounds from the kitchen as a pair of boots that he knows all too well clinks against the floor as a fresh beer is popped open and the fridge was slammed shut, “I missed it, fuck I told you guys that I'm just taking a piss and he comes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fiona.” Ian gasps, and suddenly she's standing there, leaning against the frame of the wall that separated the Gallagher kitchen from the living room.</p><p> </p><p>“Hiya sweetface.” she smiles brightly and Ian feels his chest melt as his face tightens with emotions.</p><p> </p><p>Fiona gives him that look. The same one she'd give him when he snuck home after sleeping out and being covered in hickeys. The way she crooked one finger and beckoned him closer, holding out both of her arms. A warm smile plastered on her face.</p><p> </p><p>At that moment Ian didn't care about the tacky welcome home decorations or the cake sitting on the table that read “we love you Ian”. He didn't care who was watching. He wanted to walk into that embrace so bad, but he was frozen.</p><p> </p><p>Fiona takes a few steps closer, making up the distance that Ian was unable to walk, and Mickey squeezes Ian’s shoulder affectionately.</p><p> </p><p>Ian takes the two steps necessary to fall into Fiona’s arms. He doesn't really have it in him to hug back, so he just awkwardly stands there and happily let's her do all of the work. Fiona gently rubs his back and kisses his forehead, taking a minute to purely inhale the scent of the man that she essentially raised.</p><p> </p><p>“You piece of shit. I was so worried. You know fucking Frank called me.” Fiona says softly, a beer linked between her hands as she enveloped a still Ian in a hug still. </p><p> </p><p>“It's true.” Frank laughs, already three sheets to the wind. Fiona feels Ian start to tense in her arms, so she lets go and instead cups Ian’s cheeks in her hand. </p><p> </p><p>“I would have come sooner, but I heard that you were being bitchy about hospital guests, so I cleaned up here. Oh sweetface, what a mess you got into huh?” Fiona sighs, gently running a hand from his good shoulder to the outside of his elbow and back up again.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Ian’s eyes widen like something has just hurt him and he takes a micro step back. “I feel dirty.” he states slowly and simply, “I need a shower. Can I please, please, take a shower.” Ian begs, turning to Mickey with puppy dog eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course Ee. Guys, I told you he wouldn't be entirely up to this.” Mickey sighs, grasping Ian’s hand to steady the boy who looked like he was about to topple. Ian’s eyes swam with tears and he was cringing like something was hurting him.</p><p> </p><p>Carl catches it. “Shut the music off.” Carl demands.</p><p> </p><p>Vee moves to do it.</p><p> </p><p>“C’mon carrot-top, let's get you upstairs.” Mickey says, firmly. Ian already has tears slipping down his face and he makes an effort to turn back and give a half-hearted smile and nod towards everyone. He was grateful for the support, he really was. But he couldn't do it right now. He really couldn't face all the faces, all the noises, and all of the chaos that came along with the Gallagher parties that he always loves so much. </p><p> </p><p>“We’ll save you some cake, sweetface. Don't worry about it, we all love you so much.” Fiona promises smoothing over his shoulder blades. Ian flinches at the touch that he couldn't see with no warning and it takes eye contact with Mickey to soothe him.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey, Fiona, Carl, and Lip all help him up the stairs. Ian being drowsy and emotionally drained made him little to no help. And the tiny yelps of pain as his abused knee creaked made Mickey’s heart clench. </p><p> </p><p>Once they were alone, Mickey gently situated Ian on the toilet and drew a bath. “Can't hold you up in the shower clumsy.” Mickey smiles.</p><p> </p><p>Ian just nods at that, seeming like he was about to doze off at any moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I take your clothes off?” Mickey asks gently.</p><p> </p><p>“Never had to ask before.” Ian comments bitterly.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Ian. I'm serious, I want you to know that you are in control.” Mickey tells him, squatting in front of the toilet.</p><p> </p><p>Ian shifts his head from side to side for a moment before nodding at Mickey, “Can I keep my eyes closed?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” Mickey promises. Mickey makes the effort to not touch Ian’s skin as much as he could, to be slow and steady with his touches because Ian couldn't see and Mickey didn't want to startle him.</p><p> </p><p>He takes the time to roll up the hem of Ian’s shirt and use that top grip onto instead of letting his fingers slide against Ian’s body like normal. Mickey also whispered what he was doing and small reassurances to Ian so Ian didn't feel like a doll. SO Ian felt that he had control.</p><p> </p><p>“Now pants.” Mickey says, after he took off Ian’s sweatshirt, shoes, and socks. Even with Mickey announcing and being careful, taking off his pants and underwear results in a fair amount of Ian twitching and his breath visibly heaving.</p><p> </p><p>Ian’s eyes fly open at a certain point and Mickey has to stop and reassure Ian that he is safe and loved before Ian lets his eyes flutter back closed. Mickey could tell by his breathing that he wasn't asleep, but Ian seemed awfully out of it. Mickey slid one of those waterproof sleeves that were essentially just glorified zip lock bags on Ian’s leg and arm.</p><p> </p><p>Once he was undressed and Mickey had tested the temperature of the water, Mickey helped Ian stand and lowered him into the bathtub. Ian had just docile-ly pulled his one knee to his chest, burying his head on his knee.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey hummed gently as he filled Franny’s pink glitter bath-cup up with water and let the water wet Ian’s orange mop top, making it a dark red.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey spent a fair time humming <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0dq6SL8WRc">a tune</a> from one of those dumb ass Harry Potter movies that Ian liked to watch on Sunday nights with the family. Ian told Mickey that he looked like a sexier version of Harry Potter, and Mickey had punched him on the shoulder, but secretly liked the praise. Mickey told him that Ian looked like a nerdier version of Ron, and Ian had retaliated by buying Mickey round glasses like Daniel Radcliffe wore for the series. Mickey married a nerd.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey rubbed shampoo onto Ian’s hair, spending more time that was strictly necessary massaging the suds onto Ian’s scalp just because the red-head sighed at the contact.</p><p> </p><p>For every part of Ian that Mickey scrubbed with a dinosaur washcloth, he made sure to gently soothe the skin after. He drew shapes on Ian’s back with the suds from Ian’s hair. He gently caressed Ian’s torso after rubbing on the healing cuts on his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>He rubs Ian’s ankle and calves and smiles when Ian kicks into the contact, happy he has the opportunity to even see the red-head after Terry.</p><p> </p><p>When Ian’s done, Mickey towels him off and massages his orange curls with a towel before planting a kiss on Ian’s forehead, not yet daring to touch Ian’s lips.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Wrapping a towel securely around Ian, he leads him by the hand to the bedroom. Neglecting the crutches because of the close proximity and Ian was a little faster limping, but it tired him out quick.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey gently deposits the red-head on the bed, sitting on the towel, and Ian doesn't have much room to protest as he yawns into his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Mick.” Ian says, softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” Mickey asks as he digs through the drawers for a good pair of pajama pants for Ian.</p><p> </p><p>“Mick.” Ian says again, and Mickey turns around expecting Ian to be having a panic attack, but Ian just it's up with importing eyes as he kicks his one good leg back and forth against the bed frame.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you.” Ian proclaims.</p><p> </p><p>“Love ya too.” Mickey smiles as he pulls a pair of socks from the top drawer.</p><p> </p><p>Sliding on Ian’s boxers, then plaid pajama pants, then black fluffy socks, Mickey takes note of the ginger’s discomfort.</p><p> </p><p>“Ya good?” Mickey asks as he puts on Ian’s second sock.</p><p> </p><p>“My back is sore.” Ian says meekly.</p><p> </p><p>“Here let's flip you over.” Mickey instructs. Ian looks confused, but he let's Mickey prop up pillows under his knee so Ian can lay face down on the bed.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey flips on Disenchantment on the television in the background so it's not completely silent and then he sets out to gently rub at Ian’s back. Careful not to be too rough, but also working to get the knots out.</p><p> </p><p>After a few minutes, Mickey just resorts to tracing words on Ian’s back and having Ian repeat them back to him.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you.” Ian guesses, and Mickey hums in approval.</p><p> </p><p>“Firecrotch.” Ian smiles, and Mickey sniggers.</p><p> </p><p>“ICG.” Ian says proudly, so Mickey resorts to drawing Ukrainain phrases on his husband’s back.</p><p> </p><p>“That one means I love you.” Mickey teaches.</p><p> </p><p>“That one means you're beautiful.” Mickey tells him.</p><p> </p><p>“That one means that I hope you dont snore tonight.” Mickey lies just to hear Ian giggle lightly.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey can tell Ian is just about done with the contact when Ian starts to twitch and try to reposition himself besides Mickey who was laying next to him.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey helps him flip over and takes a minute to kiss at the scars on Ian’s stomach.</p><p> </p><p>“You're so stunning.” Mickey breathes, his chin on Ian’s upper torso, his stubble digging into Ian’s chest with every sybil that moves Mickey’s jaw and it makes Ian smile.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey slips a hoodie on Ian’s head and Mickey does the same instead of just laying there in boxers like he wanted to.</p><p> </p><p>Ian cuddles next to Mickey and nestles his head against Mickey’s neck. “I love it when you hold me.” Ian says softly.</p><p> </p><p>“I love holding you, Gallagher.” Mickey smiles, gently squeezing his husband closer to his body.</p><p> </p><p>-------------------------------------</p><p>Out on the porch, Fiona sat, staring off into the quiet night and smoking a cigarette forlornly.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I join you?” a voice says, as Vee holds out two beers as a peace offering. Fiona hadn't stayed completely sober, but she had learned to drink in moderation and stay away from the hard stuff, but today was special. Today was hard. Seeing Ian like that killed Fiona inside. Crying and unable to get himself up the stairs. She longed for the days when Ian would bound up the stairs two at a time, singing some army song at the top of his lungs.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Fi accepts the beer and let's her best friend take a seat next to her, scooching over to provide room.</p><p> </p><p>“The hospital with him this rough?” Fi questions.</p><p> </p><p>“Even worse, the look on Mickey’s face when he didn't recognize him was soul-crushing. And the way that Ian cried when he remembered and the haunted look that settled in his eyes, oh I'll never forget it.” Vee admits.</p><p> </p><p>Fiona buries her head in her hands, “I never should have left.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. This is not your fault. You protected Ian the best that you could, but he's twenty-three. He's an adult. He walked out of the house, no one made him. It's Terry’s fault, but I know Mickey blames himself too.” Vee says.</p><p> </p><p>“It's so unfair.” Fiona shakes her head, “All they did was love each other. Why does them both having dicks make it a crime?” </p><p> </p><p>“I don't know sweetheart, but their love is pure. It's tough, it's all Southside, they’ll pull through. Their Ian and Mickey, the world wouldn't be the same without them.” Vee promises.</p><p> </p><p>Fiona just leans her head on Vee’s shoulder, “I should go up and say goodnight to him. Shits really gotten crazy since I left.”</p><p>------------------</p><p> </p><p>Fiona bounds up the stairs and knocks at the married couple’s door, “It's Fiona.”</p><p> </p><p>“Come in.” Mickey calls after a second which could only be him conferring with Ian.</p><p> </p><p>When Fiona opens the accordion door to the two cuddled up in pajamas pants and hoodies under blankets and looking at peace, she can't help but smile.</p><p> </p><p>“I just came to say goodnight boys.” she says, smiling.</p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight Fi.” Ian smiles, waving a hand at her.</p><p> </p><p>Something catches Fiona’s eye, “Want me to get scissors to cut your bracelet off?” she asks.</p><p> </p><p>Ian looks down and studies his wrist, “oh.” he says meekly, “I didn't even notice that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Here, I'll be right back.” Fiona leaves and rummages through Carl and Liam’s room until she produces a pair of scissors from the desk in the boy’s room. </p><p> </p><p>Fiona bursts back into the room and Ian and Mickey both look up at her with wide eyes in shock like they weren't expecting her to come back.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, hand.” she instructs, standing over the couple. Ian hesitantly lifts up his wrist and Fiona snips the bracelet off, pausing to kiss his wrist after.</p><p> </p><p>“Good night sweetface, I love you.” Fiona coos and then turns to her brother-in-law, “Good night Mickey, thank you for being you.”</p><p>---------------------------------------------------</p><p>It turns out that Ian wasn't really tired, just his body was. Once he was comfy in bed, he wasn't tired anymore. The problem is that Mickey was. Mickey had barely been sleeping this past month and it was beginning to wear on him. He made Ian take his meds, eat a granola bar, drink some water and just held him.</p><p> </p><p>He exercised patience, and around midnight Ian finally dozed off and Mickey followed right after.</p><p> </p><p>Then he woke up screaming and kicking in a nightmare around 12:50. It took an hour of cuddles to get him back to sleep. The whole house woke up and Fiona burst in, but Mickey waved her away, Ian just needed Mickey. He fell back asleep around 1:50.</p><p> </p><p>And then he woke up again at 2:30, nearly forty-five minutes later, screaming and sobbing and needing to be held again. Crying about Iggy, and all Mickey could do was hold him.</p><p> </p><p>Then he fell back asleep after copious amounts of sleepy cuddles and sweet nothings in his ear.</p><p> </p><p>Then he woke up again at four, sobbing and Mickey felt his breaking point hit.</p><p> </p><p>“I can feel his hands on me Mick. They’re everywhere.” Ian screams.</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I know.” Mickey soothes, rubbing a hand up and down Ian’s arm and stifling a yawn of his own.</p><p> </p><p>After fifteen-minutes, Ian was practically hyperventilating and Mickey was almost sleeping through it.</p><p> </p><p>“Firecrotch.” Mickey starts, about to cry himself, “I love you so much, but I need to sleep, okay? I haven't slept at all.” Mickey cries, feeling selfish as he reaches to grab the pill bottle from the nurses. Ian cries harder at the loss of contact from Mickey, but Mickey knows that this needs to be done.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you take this for me?” Mickey asks, and Ian just trusts him and takes it. Doesn't even ask what it is, and that makes Mickey sob.</p><p> </p><p>Ian falls asleep thirty minutes later, and it's not a peaceful sleep. Sure his eyes are closed. But he's not sleeping cutely like normal. He feels cold and his heartbeat is irregular. No sleepy snores escape his lips and Ian’s hand won't tighten around Mickey’s randomly in his sleep, like Mickey craves, and he begins to realize that he made a mistake by sedating Ian. Mickey needed Ian just as much as Ian needed Mickey.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Ian was in a box, with no windows and it was just black. He sat in the middle, hands over his eyes as he cried. Then the box opened up and Terry stepped in bang bang bang, three shots riddled through Ian’s body, one by one. And suddenly, it was Mickey holding the trigger and standing over Ian’s lifeless body. </p><p> </p><p>Mickey wakes in a cold sweat, bolting up in bed. He needs Ian so badly, but the red-head is dead to the world beside him. So all Mickey can do is wrap Ian’s one arm around him and manipulate the arm into holding him. Big mistake, he needed his Ian too. This was hard on Mickey too. It left him with scars too and he needed his husband’s comfort to fix them.</p><p> </p><p>When they both wake up around ten o’clock, Mickey bears hugs Ian and Ian sighs in surprise. </p><p> </p><p>“Mick, what's the madder?” Ian grumbles softly, voice laced with sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey sighed knowing he subjected Ian to a night full of nightmares that Ian’s body wouldn't let him wake up from.</p><p> </p><p>“I don't care how much sleep I lose, I'll buy some Red Bull. I'm never giving you a sleeping pill again.” Mickey promises.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Ian asks, clearly dazed.</p><p> </p><p>“I'd rather never sleep again than wake up to you like that.” Mickey reiterates. And he means it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Sunlight- Hozier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chapter 8 was supposed to be much longer, so this is really the first part because I decided to split it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning- reference to sexual assault, torture, violence, panic attacks, bipolar, nightmares, and homophobia</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter 8</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey Milkovich had never expected to become a morning person. But like most things, Ian had found a way to warm him up to the idea. Though getting kidnapped to make him a morning person was extreme, it had worked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey found himself waking up earlier just to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span>. In the early morning as the sun just began to etch across the sky and leave spatterings of color, Mickey could just breathe. He could just breathe to the sound of Ian’s sleepy breathing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Enjoy the soft snoring and eyelids moving back and forth under pale and freckled eyelids while they last.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he was this gay, but he'd never say it out loud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mick.” Ian mumbles, sleepily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah man?” Mickey asks, running a hand up and down his arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W’ are we?” he slurs. Ian had been waking up confused the past few nights and everytime it made Mickey’s heart jump like Ian would forget it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Home, red. We’re home.” Mickey reminds him gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Ian slurs. Green eyes flick open suddenly revealing playful eyes and a mouth that stretches into a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Starin?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off.” Mickey laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You love me.” Ian sings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I tolerate you.” Mickey bites, “You're a cute motherfucker sometimes, saves your skin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian smirks and leans his hand further into Mickey’s touch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey twirls the strands of ginger hairs on Ian’s head that have been getting longer and longer. “Hairs gettin all gorilla like, man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian blinks self consciously, suddenly becoming all wide-eyes and desperate “Should I cut it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey calm down Ian. I think it looks beautiful either way.” Mickey assures him. That seems to relax Ian and he settles back into the sheets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kiss?” Ian asks. This too was a new thing. If Ian wanted a kiss, he would ask for one. Mickey would always respond with a “where?” and Ian would say something like head or cheek. He still was hesitant to say lips, but this was progress in and of itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey rolls his eyes, “</span>
  <span>Де?” he asks, meaning where in Ukranian. Just to keep things light and keep his husband's mind sharp, he had been throwing a couple of Ukranian phrases at Ian every now and again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nose?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're so soft.” Mickey whines, kissing the tip of Ian’s nose. While this behavior wasn't unwelcomed, it felt juvenile coming from Southside Ian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The past three days were pretty okay since they had been home. Ian woke up and Mickey watched him take his meds. Ian was pretty okay with resuming normal everyday activities that were not limited by his knee or elbow, as long as Mickey was next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first day had been rough. Tears when Mickey left Ian to go to the bathroom rough. But slowly, he had warmed up to the separation anxiety, and it helped tremendously that Fiona was home to help out. But she could only get four more days off of work. And Mickey could only get two more days, meaning the first two days that Mickey would be at work, Fiona would be with Ian, but the next two? He would be at home alone. At twenty-three-years old, being home alone should be fine and dandy, but Ian was petrified to brush his teeth alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey wasn't entertaining the idea of sleeping pills anymore, but the nights were still rough. Ian woke up at least twice a night screaming and sobbing that he could feel Terry’s hands all over him. That he could see Iggy. That he saw Mick dying. And the most heart breaking one is where Ian saw Mickey helping Terry out. After Ian had fallen asleep again, Mickey had sobbed until he was physically nauseous at the implication that Ian’s subconscious could even begin to equate Mickey with Terry’s work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simple things that Mickey thought would just resume once they were home, didn't. Ian didn't want to hold Mickey’s hand in his sleep anymore, and when Mickey tried once while Ian was asleep, Ian flinched awake like he had been punched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian had stubbornly insisted on pulling some weight, and he tried to wash the dishes with one hand every day. Bored from watching Ian form the table and thinking nothing of it, Mickey had presumed his normal habit of walking up behind Ian while he was doing the dishes, albeit rather messily  because he was used to having full function of both arms, and wrapping his arms around Ian’s waist while he rested his chin atop Ian’s shoulder. Ian was so startled that he dropped a “Simpsons Duff Beer” mug of Carl’s on the floor and it had shattered into a million pieces.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey had a habit of kissing and distracting Ian while he was reading to try to entice him into something else, but Ian has not even tried to initiate a kiss since well since before it all. Mickey always thought that cheesy “my life forever was divided into before and after I met her” bullshit was a load of crap. But now, he was constantly thinking about the before versus after. He reminded himself daily that he was lucky to even have an after, but Mickey had half expected Ian to just go back to “normal” (well as normal as a Gallagher could be), but trauma was one hell of a drug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The best way to deal with Ian being skittish, rightfully so after being kidnapped and tortured, was simply to always leave the ball in his court. Let him take the lead as best as he was capable off. Let him set the limits because Mickey trusted Ian to tell Mickey “no” when he wasn't cool with something, and Ian trusted Mickey wholeheartedly to stop after he said “no”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey really thought about taking Ian with him to the tattoo shop just to avoid leaving him alone like this, but the doctor said that Ian needed a routine. The sounds of winces of pain, heavy metal, and tattoo needles buzzing weren't going to help either. So Mickey essentially had two day to rewire the attachment issues that Ian had developed with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian and Fiona.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being back in the Southside after all of this time, was like Cinderella returning back to a maid at midnight for Fiona. She swore on everything that she held near and dear that she wouldn't return to the inescapable emotional sinkhole that was the Southside of Chicago, because one problem was never just one problem. They bled together and blended and problems just kept popping up like whack-a-mole. But Ian, was one of the five things that were near and dear on her heart that she swore on. And he almost died. So, of course she had to come back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiona had been living in Florida. At first, she started out in real estate, but she quickly learned that she had a knack for talking to people and the innocent looks to keep people thinking that she didn't know her shit when she was shrewd and knowledgeable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took a few community college classes. Bid her time, and kept her head down. It turns out that the sketchy parts of Florida are a lot more willing to accommodate a criminal record than newly-gentrified-Chicago was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, she wound up taking a pharmacy class and loving it. She had a tech’s license and she was in pharmacy school to become a pharmacist. It didn't have anything to do with either of her skills, but the opportunity fell into her lap. She felt more comfortable working counting pills and mixing medications than selling predatory loans anyhow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the dating department, she had practically tattooed a chastity belt around her waist. Fiona was determined to get a little more on her feet before she opened up the floodgates and issues that came along with dating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But for now, she had her own apartment. And she had no neighbors that despised her, unlike the first time. And she was sure not to invite in any squatters. She had friends that she regularly met for coffee. She was sober-ish to the point where she could casually drink. She even had a fish named Vienna that was kind of an impulse buy, but they worked well together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiona had her shit together. For so long she had watched Lip go to college, and Ian get his EMT license, and Carl go to military school, and Debbie weld and be a single mom, and Liam excel in school while she held down the nest so they could fly from it. Now, it was Fiona’s turn. She had given all she had to give to these five, and now she was ready to fly herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then Frank called.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Fiona knows it's not Ian’s fault. She practically raised that boy, she would do anything for him and there is no where she would rather be than by his side, but she would be lying if she said it didn't weigh on her chest that at any moment Carl could need help with something and she’d get sucked into the Great Gallagher Vortex. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Ian was somehow worth it. They way that he would blink up at her with the same innocent eyes. He didn't need her in the same way, but he wanted Fiona there. Truthfully, Fiona debated coming for two seconds, but when she heard that Ian had woke up crying for his parents, she couldmt not. Because Fiona was Ian’s parents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiona jumps from her whirlwind of thoughts as she sits on the armchair when Ian pads into the living room clad in sweats and fuzzy socks, and carrying a green mug while Mickey trails behind him holding a dish with an Eggo waffle on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey assertively pushes Ian onto the couch and trusts the plate with the Eggo on it into his lap, “Eat up bitch.” Mickey growls, but he fondly reaches down to plant a kiss on Ian’s head and Ian beams like he just won a gold star.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey takes a step backwards and the grin is wiped off of Ian’s face, “Where you goin?” Ian panics.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey shoots a glance back to Fiona. He had silently whispered to Fiona about his approaching deadline to return to work at a job that he was lucky to have at a reputable tattoo shop that had seen his sketches and paid to have him trained and gave him a killer apprenticeship. They paid Mickey well and treated him perfectly, and the sad reality is that Mickey needed some legal money because he couldn't risk going back to jail when Ian could barely shower on his own. So Mickey had asked Fiona to help just a smidge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just making myself some toast man, I'll be right in your eyesight.” Mickey promises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I come?” Ian begs, sounding small and scared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Fiona steps in, crossing over to him, “Hey monkey, wanna watch some television with me while Mickey’s gone for a minute.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah red, spend some time with Fiona. I'll be back in two minutes Ian, I'm just in the kitchen.” Mickey promises. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian’s green eyes flick back and forth from Mickey to Fiona to Mickey to Fiona. Finally he concedes and nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be back carrot-top, eat your Eggo.” Mickey says, ruffling Ian’s hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiona could sense the panic coming off of Ian as his breathing began to speed up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” she tries, sliding next to him on the couch, “You know what I was thinkin about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian looks up at her with an eyebrow raise that he must get from watching Mickey’s eyebrows raise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were the only one that ever asked for a bedtime story. I was terrible at reading stories, Lip could do all of the voices and I couldn't, but you always wanted a bedtime story from me. I was so busy that bedtime stories were the only time you got my undivided, and you hung onto every word. Member that, sweetheart.” Fiona coos, tapping his nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian crunches up his nose, but he allows himself to melt into the gentle touch, leaning against her shoulder like he did when he was little.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiona takes that as her cue to continue, “I remember once when you were like four and Frank beat the shit out of you for spilling Cheerios on him, like you were covered in bruises on your little face that was essentially a big freckles and the rest was covered by bangs.” Fiona snorts at the memory, “So I told you to sleep in my bed and you were laying there in my arms, one eye bruised shut and a broken arm and you asked for a bedtime story. You never cared if I talked about princes and castles or the weather, you just wanted to hear a voice before bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I sound like I was annoying.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Still are.” Fiona teases, “But you're the best. You always had the best laugh and gave the best hugs. And you still have the sweetest face.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian smiles at that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And now you're married to someone who you're in love with. I know sometimes you were overlooked as a middle child being that Monica and Frank really left after you were born and then Debbie came four years later, but Mickey doesn't overlook you. I'm proud of you.” Fiona praises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He didn't set a match to my life.” Ian points out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiona bites her bottom lip and gently rubs at Ian’s head, “No he built your life up. You set a match to your own life with the van.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off.” Ian snorts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm seriously proud of you okay?” Fiona promises as Mickey wanders back in, “And look who is back already.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian and Lip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip had struggled immensely with not being able to help. Scratch that, it's not that he wasn't ready and willing to help Ian, Ian didn't want it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had all known that when Ian finally woke up, they would have to deal with the messy fight that had occurred before he was kidnapped, but Lip never imagined that Ian would still be cold to him even when he is now home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Walking in to find Mickey and Fiona cheering at Ian for being without Mickey for a minute, felt like defeat. In the hospital, it was Lip and Mickey who took the reins, but now Ian was still so icey to him. Ian has a strong will and he has always been able to hold a silent treatment for a ridiculous amount of time. Kid would have been damn good in the military because he knows how to shut it off. Sometimes Ian feels everything so intensely and he's so sensitive, and sometimes he's just cold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cold so fucking cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just looking at Ian made Lip want to throw something at him just to get Ian to acknowledge his presence. But this is different from the silent treatment of when they were teenagers. Now, if he threw a watermelon, Ian would probably have a meltdown and flashbacks to Terry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At only twenty-three-years-old, Lip’s little brother was getting flashbacks like he had been in Vietnam. Lip wouldn't pretend to understand why, but only Mickey calmed him down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey who had the same eyes as Terry. Mickey who was the son of the man that haunted Ian in his dreams. It made zero sense to Lip, he didn't even bother trying anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip had figures that Fiona would help watch Fred while Mickey and Ian were out for the count, but she refused. She refused to help out anyone that wasn't Ian. As if wearing gloves at this point would keep her hands from getting dirty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he stopped bringing Fred around because that would just result in Fred being tossed to Ian and Mickey who had enough to worry about. So now, he was bringing his kid to work every day like it was a Daddy Day Care center. He didn't expect help from the Gallagher’s like Debbie used to, but Tami and him needed a centertainlevel of help that the other Gallaghers were always happy to provide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Ian notices Lip putting groceries on the counter, the smile wipes off of his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey bud, nice to see you smiling today.” Lip tries, always friendly at first even if he didn't feel that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian’s face closed off, devoid of emotion. “Hi Lip.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey pokes Ian’s side, “Don't be a brat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian rolls his eyes like he's fifteen again, “Do you want help unpacking the groceries.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With your one hand.” Fiona snorts. Apparently only those two could joke about Ian’s injuries. For everyone else it was off limits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah actually, sounds good.” Lip agrees even though Ian’s eyes suggest that the offer was more of a formality.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian didn't use his crutches anymore. Yesterday, Mickey went to the doctor with Ian and they gave him some kind of knee brace that was hinged and almost went up his entire leg.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian still favored his un-injured leg and put all of his weight on it when he stood idly, but without the bulky cast it was a bit easier for him to navigate around. His arm was still in a full cast and a sling because apparently he had broken every bone in the arm. They were holding off on surgery and immobilizing his arm in the sling for now, but Ian’s arm was pretty much stuck at a ninety degree angle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey helped Ian off the couch and pushed Ian’s back to get him to walk towards Lip. Ian looked at Mickey with an imploring look like </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren't you coming too</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey shakes his head no and says, “I'll be there in a sec Firecrotch, gotta talk shit about you to Fiona. Go on I'm right here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian complies, looking too weak to argue, but he's definitely annoyed. Fnatasic, so now Lip had a pre-aggravated Ian to deal with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once he was safely tucked in the kitchen he mumbled, “there just trying to get me used to being without Mick before he goes back to work. SO obvious about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well buddy.” Lip starts, having Ian hand him groceries from the bag on the counter while he stood on his tippy-toes to put them away. “They care about you a lot and you are pretty much glued to Mickey’s hip.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He's my husband.” Ian mumbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was at the wedding Ian.” Lip bites back, matching his cool attitude.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except Ian looks up with tears in his eyes “Is it so wrong that I want my husband after being kidnapped and tortured. I'm sorry you don't have that kind of relationship with Tami, but I need Mick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don't know shit about Tami and I.” Lip bites.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then stop making assumptions about Mick and I.” Ian retorts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All I know is that you won't let anyone else near you but Mick. You seem to be blaming everyone else for the fights that we had that day, but him. You just forgave him instantly. You're so cold to me, Ian and it hurts me so badly.” Lip admits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I barely even remember those faults. You realy think that's the problem? Mick is the only one who looks at me like I'm not broken. The rest of you look at me like a victim. I'm not okay, I want my normal life back but everytime Tami looks at me with tears in her eyes and I have to comfort her because I got kidnapped, it makes me feel like shit. I get you were all affected, but it happened to me.” Ian fires back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip feels something crack inside of him, “Just hug me then Ian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, don't touch me.” Ian panics, backing away and sounding freaked out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian, Ian shhhhh.” Lip panics himself, reaching out to pull Ian to his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian fights him on it, now sobbing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhhhh, shhhhh.” Lip pleads, but Mickey and Fiona come bursting in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” Fiona yells upon seeing Ian screaming and fighting Lip who was holding him in a hug against his will.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey get off him!” Mickey shouts, pushing Lip away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can feel Robert’s hands all over me.” Ian screams as Mickey tries his very best to calm Ian down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, hey. Eyes on mine. Ian what color are my eyes?” Mickey asks. Ian sniffles and sobs but he looks directly at Mickey for a seconds before hiccuping, “blue.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What kind of blue?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blue, blue like those ice cream cones that you get that are dipped in frosting.” Ian answers, and Lip hears Mickey Milkovich actually let out a low giggle at his brother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That's a new one. What room are we in?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kitchen.” Ian sniffles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whose hands are actually on you?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yours.” Ian answers, placing his own hands over Mickey’s which rested on each of Ian’s cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whose Robert?” Lip blurts out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All three eyes snap to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lip!” Fiona exclaims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's okay.” Ian sighs, “Robert is Terry’s friend. The one who assaulted me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn't watch that part, only Mick watched all of it.” Lip admits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's okay, I wouldn't want to watch either.” Ian tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If Ian says not to touch him, don't touch him.” Mick practically growls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Lip stutters, at a loss for words, “I'm sorry Ian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's okay.” Ian smiles slightly, I'll try to be less cold Lip, promise.” Ian says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Lip mouths.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C'mon let's get you cleaned up before Carl and co get here.” Mickey sighs, leading Ian upstairs. Today was the day that two police officers and a lawyer were going to take Ian’s statement because he didn't want to give it more than once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they were upstairs Fiona turns to Lip, “You don't know everything about what happened to Ian okay, ease up.” she growls. And no matter how out of the loop he felt, he had to admit that it was true. He didn't know it all and he would just have to accept that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian and Carl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carl brought two detectives that he trusted with him. He didn't get to pick the lawyer, but he did get to drill into the detectives’ heads that his brother wasn't entirely up to talking about it all still. They had it all on footage. They had statements from Mickey and Carl. This was just supplemental. If Ian wanted to skip a question, Carl made sure that the officers knew it was a hard skip no negotiating. If he was done, the show was over, go home and stay away from Ian. Carl knew that Ian wasn't in the right state mentally to go down to that station and speak into a recorder. If Carl could do it himself, he would, but that would be a “conflict of interest”. This was the Southside. Everything is a conflict of interest here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Carl brought James and Harvey with him. He made sure that they were dressed in plain clothes and recorded it on a phone. The affidavits that he had to sign were all easy to read and Carl would read them over before Ian signed them, just to be sure that they weren't going to “Central Park Five” his brother and accuse him of kidnapping himself or some shit and use his confused mental state to make him sign something that he didn't mean.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So when Carl got to the house and Lip was sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, his eyes downcast as he told Carl that he just pushed Ian into having an episode, Carl could have hit Lip right then and there. Today of all days Lip had to wake up and be even more of a prick than usual?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carl sat down James and Harvey on the couch and told Fiona to wait with them while they waited for the lawyer to arrive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jogging up the stairs, Carl pauses at the top upon hearing the dialogue coming from Mickey and Ian’s room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mickey gentle.” Ian whines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am being gentle, stay still.” Mickey shouts back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, oh not so hard. Ow Mickey don't press.” Ian whines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, assholes. Put your dicks away, there's people here.” Carl shouts, rapping on the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck.” Mickey and Ian shout in unison. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not fucking shit head, get in here.” Mickey shouts, a tinge of bitterness lacing the annoyances.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Upon opening the door Carl finds Ian sitting on the bed fully dressed in black Vans, dark jeans, and a dark green and black flannel. His legs were spread apart and Mickey stood in between them, fully clothed as well as he attempted to comb Ian’s hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carl couldn't help but snicker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guys are dorks.” Carl tells them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you're standing here why?” Mickey quips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um James and Harvey are here.” Carl explains.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And James and Harvey are? Tax collectors? CPS? The lost bonus Jonas’?” Mickey retorts as he continues to try to comb Ian’s hair, but he's rather shit at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No the detectives.” Carl answers and he watches Ian’s face fall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Ian says softly, “We'll be down in a minute.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey gives Ian a look and Ian seems to panic, “We? Right Mick. I need you for this.” Ian seems to plead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeha, yeah, of course I'll be there with you Firecrotch.” Mickey agrees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The whole time?” Ian implores.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, the whole time dumbass. Chill your panties.” Mickey tells him, seeming nonchalant but Carl could detect the sadness in Mickey's voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This isn't just staying home for the day without you. This is an invasive questionnaire about everything. I can't do this by myself.” Ian continues, stuck on the topic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I'll be there the whole time and so will Mickey.” Carl promises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey frowns at his husband as he cards a hand through Ian’s freshly combed hair, not caring about the consequences to his hair, “Don't get all worked up carrots.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tension drops from Ian’s shoulders as he relaxes and let's Mickey continue. Carl had seen him do that a lot lately. Get real wound up super quickly and deflate back to zero in a few seconds flat. It wasn't Bipolar, he was taking his new meds every day and they were set to visit the psychiatrist tomorrow just for a check-up. Ian took them religiously under Mickey’s watch and Mickey told Carl that he didn't think Ian was experiencing symptoms of mania or depression. He was just traumatized and scared. Carl trusted Mickey to know about Ian’s mood swings best and to make sure that Ian was all good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Down stairs, Ian sat shakilty on the arm chair, sitting on the chair while Mickey sat on the arm. Mickey wound his fingers with Ian’s and was constantly squeezing their hands together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James and Harvey sat side by side on the couch, facing Ian who looked grey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lawyer sat on a folding chair Carl had got for her and took notes on her notepad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiona sat on the other arm chair, and Carl sat on the coffee table, careful to push most of his weight on the floor rather than the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did you go for a walk alone?” James presses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had a fight with my family.” Ian answers shakilly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And why didn't you bring a phone with you?” James presses again while Harvey jots on a notepad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again, I walked out after a fight to get some air. Wasn't thinking right.” Ian answers sheepishly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So just to get a sense of the timeline, you don't remember anything after a cloth was shoved on your mouth from behind?” The lawyer, Layla, asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, just waking up in the warehouse.” Ian answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And who was there when you woke up?” James asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just Terry that I saw.” Ian tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Were you aware of your location when you woke up?” James asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Ian answers, kind of monotone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Terry stated several times that the intent behind his actions was too harm his son through you?” James asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, his homophobic kidnapping was spite guided.” Ian answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And he also threatened your sister, Deborah Gallagher?” James questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes because she's dating Sandy, Terry’s niece.” Ian answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And where is your sister now?” James asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jail.” Ian admits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For?” James implores.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sex with a seventeen-year-old, but I hardly see how that's relevant.” Ian spits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just making sure she is safe. Has it been confirmed that she is in jail and safe.” James pushes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I called her and explained.” Carl says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you guys have obtained temporary custody of her daughter, Francis, while she is incarcerated?” James questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” Mickey answers for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you were alone when you woke up, then what?” James asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian let's his head loll in boredom, “Some garden variety torture thatd I'd prefer not to go into detail about. If you want details, please refer to the recording on the harddrive that was sent to my husband on the computer that you guys have in your possession.” Ian answers. Mickey can't help but smirk at the Southside bite returning to post-kidnapping Ian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So when did Iggy Milkovich show up?” James asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don't you have the tapes? I don't know the exact time.” Ian whines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay so you weren't aware of the time.” James notes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He didn't hand me an Apple Watch as a door prize for being kidnapped.” Ian quips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That's usually not the case in kidnappings.” James agrees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No shit Sherlock.” Mickey mutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you tell me about Iggy’s involvement in this situation?” James asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He helped clean off my injuries and keep me from dying of hypothermia or blood loss.” Ian answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And to the best of your knowledge, Iggy wasn't voluntarily working with Terry?” James asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only to save me.” Ian answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure of that?” James presses. And that does it. Tears well up in Ian’s eyes and he furiously wipes them away with one hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Next question.” Ian begs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you aware of Iggy’s current whereabouts at-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span> James starts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey he said next question asshole!” Mickey shouts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright easy Mr. Milkovich.” James responds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gallagher-Milkovich.” Mickey spits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was Iggy with you for the whole time that the tapes were turned off?” James asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian stutters at that, chest heaving at the mention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just move on from Iggy,” Carl commands, sounding more sharp than he intended as he crosses his arms over his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Can we talk about Robert Van O Linda?” James asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What's there to talk about? You know exactly what he did.” Ian says, sounding overwhelmed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When Terry turned the cameras off, he was still in view so we don't have the total timeline.” James starts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have my hospital records don't you? You know every injury on my body. You have the rape-kit. You know what happened with the camera on, more of the same happened when it was off. They used me. Is that what you wanna hear?” Ian cries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry if you feel this is invasive, but this is the best way to make sure that Terry and Robert get prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” Layla tries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't want them to get prosecuted, I just wanna never think about it again. Okay, I'm gonna have to go through this all again at the trial. Twice, one for each of them because they'd never agree to be tried as co-defendants. So guess what? You'll hear this again and again.” Ian snaps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This statement can be used in lieu of an in-person testimony. You won't even have to go to the trial.” Layla tries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think I won't go just to watch them lock him up and throw away the key. Or prepare myself if he weasels out of it somehow, even with it all on video. He only turned it off when I was sleeping or passed out. The whole point was to make Mickey suffer, nothing happened off cameras that was crucial to the case.” Ian tells them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, easy Ee.” Mickey soothes, gently rubbing Ian’s back in circles with his free-hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. Let's give him a little break from these questions. New topic.” Carl tries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we talk about what happened when the police showed up. The gunshots that happened, and all of the yelling.” James tries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian looks a little sick, “I can't, I can't do this anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian, this information could help us find Iggy.” Jimmy tries as Ian bolts up in his seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I watched where Terry shot him. There's no way he's alive. I don't know how he got out after Terry was arrested and I was taken to the hospital, but there's not a chance that he survived that shot.” and with that Ian’s face dissolves into crumpled sobs as he tries to storm out, but the knee brace really impedes any of his usual dramatic flare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Naturally, Mickey runs after him, and so does Carl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian hobbles out the back door, and sinks to his knees on the top step.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey tries to pull him into his arms, but Ian tells him to back off and won't let anyone touch him for a few minutes. Carl settles a few steps down and watches his brother-in-law struggle to calm Ian down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You realy don't think Iggy is alive do you?” Carl asks, once Ian’s sobs have mostly subsided and he allows Mickey to pull him onto his lap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian looks surprised, “No. I don't see how he could be. You guys saw the tapes. He was hit right in the chest, he was on the floor and dying. You guys heard me screaming for him as the place was stormed. Somehow he managed to cockroach his way out, but there's no way he survived without medical attention.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His body would have turned up by now.” Carl insists.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Iggy is one tough mother fucker. If anyone would survive a shot like that, it's him. In a way, the fact that he disappeared when the place was tromed makes me feel better. That he had it in him to see the cops and run. That's classic Ig.” Mickey assures him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian doesn't look convinced, but he let's Mickey cuddle him closer before squirming a little and Mickey sets him back down on the top step.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Carl.” Ian calls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what's up man?” Carl asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Ian sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For what?” Carl asks, genuinely perplexed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For everything you did with that whole mess. I know you tried really hard to make it okay for me. I'm sorry that I couldn't stay the whole time.” Ian apologizes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, don't apologize. I'm proud of you for even taking the interview Ian.” Carl promises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn't have to be proud of me for answering simple questions, I'm sorry that I haven't been the best older brother.” Ian apologizes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking kidding me.” Carl splutters, “I've always been proud of you. Man I wanted to fucking be you. The arm, West Point, having you show me hand grips. Wanting to give back to the community. I've always looked up to you, and this didn't change shit. It made me even prouder of you for continuing on after all of this Ian. You've always saved my skin, let me help you out for once.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean you've always wanted to be a Bipolar gay arson conduct convinct with PTSD who accidentllay started a cult and got fired from his only real job?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Mickey commands softly, lifting Ian’s chin, “What have we talked about? Those are just labels. You are much more than simple labels Ian Clayton.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I'm just a short cop who is also an ex-con who bought this house with drug cartel money and pretended to be black. Is that all I am?” Carl demands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey catches on, “And I'm just an ex-con frequent flyer in prison, who fag bashed because he was gay. And I'm a Milkovich. That's all I am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No but-” Ian starts flustered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then don't let those labels define you.” Carl tells Ian, “To me you're just my older brother. The rest doesn't matter.” Carl promises. And that gets  a smile from Ian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian and Liam.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later on, after Mickey and Ian shower and have dinner, Ian is passing by Liam’s door with Mickey on their way to go down stairs and watch the television, when Liam pops out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Ian, can I have your help with something?” Liam asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah sure bud. What do you need us for?” Ian asks, tugging Mickey’s hand to stop him from continuing to walk on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I get just you to help me?” Liam asks, somewhat shyly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course bud.” Mickey answers for him, pushing Ian forward, “I'll just be downstairs when you're done. Okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Ian sits down with Liam, on his bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you need bud?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you read my rhetorical analysis essay on Great Expectations?” Liam asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great Expectations? I didn't read that till the ninth grade.” Ian says, astonished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm in honors English, remember.” Liam tells him, as he hands Ian the essay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian spends a few minutes reading the essay in the light of Liam’s desk lamp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I liked it a lot. Especially the parallels you drew between Miss Havisham and Jacob Marley. And your take on the symbolism of Joe and how you draw Estella’s behavior to modern day social justice issues and the Black Lives Matter Movement. You used the wrong there in the second paragraph and trivial is spelled with two “L”s, but other than that I think it's perfect.” Ian appraises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Realy?” Liam asks, sitting next to Ian on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah bud. You've been putting in good work lately, proud of you.” Ian smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I always put in good work.” Liam comments.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know that, but Mick said that your science teacher emailed to praise how good you've been doing even after everything.” Ian tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Should I have been doing worse, everyone acts like I should have?” Liam asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course not. Everyone deals with things differently. You don't have to lay in bed and shout why at the ceiling all day or binge eat. Everyone is complicated and different and everyone has a different coping strategy. Are you coping well, do you think?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you?” Liam fires right back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, I don't think I am coping at all, but I'm getting up and taking my meds so I'm moving forward just a little bit every day in that regard. Everyone says I'm doing way better than to be expected, like there's some kind of rule book on this shit and I'm passing some imaginary curve of normalcy for being kidnapped.” Ian levels with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think you're doing your best and that's what matters.” Liam tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian gives a tight lipped smile, “What about you though?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was sad for a while. Especially when you were in the hospital and didn't remember anything. That was really sad. And then after I got why you didn't want to see anyone. You were angry, and I was angry for you.” Liam tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how do you feel about it now?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel sad that you're sad and having nightmares.” Liam tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay bud, that's valid.” Ian tells him, sighing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you gonna get a new wedding ring?” Liam blurts out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Ian asks, and then looks back down at his fingers, where there's a slight absence of freckles in the place where his ring usually was on his fingers that poked out of his cast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your ring?” Liam asks again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, I haven't thought about it. The whole sling really broke my habit of twisting my ring. Terry probably chuckled it in the woods before he even brought me to the warehouse.” Ian tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry Ian.” Liam says, looking up at him in earnest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's okay buddy.” Ian musters a smile even though the ring question has brought him deep into though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” Liam tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love you too, Li.” Ian promises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once downstairs, Ian finds Mickey lounging on the couch with Franny, Fiona, and Sandy, watching Breaking Bad as if Franny wasn't a child in the midst.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey freckles.” Mickey calls from the couch. “Wanna go get a drink with me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian just nods, grateful that his husband could sense that he needed him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they were in the kitchen, Mickey takes a water bottle and hands it to Ian, “Here Gallags, now tell me what's up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When you go back to work, do you have a lot of tattoo appointments already scheduled?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a fair amount, but definitely easing up so I can spend time with you too.” Mickey tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, would you have time to squeeze in an appointment?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you looking for some ink? Finally letting me do a cover up of those tits on your back?” Mickey smirks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah just cover it up with a dick tattoo.” Ian says with an eye roll, “No, I want something on my ring finger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I obviously want to get a new wedding ring, but I wanna tattoo your initials and the date we got married going around my ring finger like a ring.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey picks up Ian’s hand and surveys the area, “What all the Pinterest bicthes don't get is ring tattoos hurt like a bitch because there's not much fat on your fingers, but I think you'll live. It'll fade like a bitch because you wash your hands a lot, but it's a good thing that you live with someone who can give you a retouch whenever. I like the idea a lot.” Mickey admits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Ian smiles in earnest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, and you can just come to the shop after my last appointment of the day any day and I mighttttt be able to squeeze you in quick.” Mickey smirks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian and Franny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian and Mickey had both tucked Franny in for the last two nights. The first night, she wanted a bedtime story from Ian because he does the voices better. Last night she wanted a lullaby from Mickey because his voice is better and Ian’s is “too high”. Mickey coulndt help but snort at that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonight, as Mickey knelt by the edge of Franny’s bed and Ian sat at the foot of her bed, Franny posed a question that stunned the couple.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uncle Ian?” she asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah sweetheart?” Ian cooed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is your brain still sick or is it all better?” Franny implores.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Franny Bear.” Ian sighs, tapping his chin for a minute as he settled more comfortably on Franny’s bed. Mickey took the hint and squeezed next to Franny on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well you know how Sandy told you that I got hurt because someone took me and that caused my brain to get sick?” Ian starts out, treading carefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I saw a little of the video with you and the bad guy but Sandy said we coulndt watch it anymore till you beat the bad guy.” Franny tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I did beat the bad guy, but I got hurt fighting him too. He hit my head and I lost my memory for a few days.” Ian continues, drastically over simplifying and slightly lying because the amnesia had nothing to do with his concussion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But then you remember-ered right?” Franny urges, tripping over her words at the end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I did, bug. And now I still have a hurt leg and arm, but I'm mostly better.” Ian explains.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That explanation seems to soothe Franny as she nods and repeats “Mostly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, mostly.” Mickey agrees, nodding too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But Sandy told me you scream so loud at night because you're still a little sick.” Franny says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that's not entirely true.” Ian frowns, trying to think of the best way to go about this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sandy lied?” Franny exclaims in disbelief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easy little red, Sandy didn't lie, she just didn't explain it all. You know when you have nightmares at night how mommy told you those are just bad dreams?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Franny says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well when the bad guy took Ian, it scared him even though he won. So he still gets nightmares at night because it's scary, not because he's sick.” Mickey explains.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So he's not sick anymore?” Franny asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” Ian confirms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So why do you keep going to the doctor?” she asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To make sure that my boo-boos are still healing. Like tomorrow, I'm going to a head doctor so they can check on the boo-boo on my head.” Ian tells her, leaving out that technically the “boo-boo” was in his head, being he was seeing his psychiatrist tomorrow for a med-check.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do they kiss it better or put a band-aid on it?” Franny asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't have to wear a band-aid, they are just checking to make sure it's healing right so I don't have to get a band-aid back on. Besides Uncle Mickey kisses the boo-boo on my head so the doctor doesn't have to.” Ian smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I?” Franny asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you what Franny-girl?” Ian returns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss the boo-boo on your head? In case Uncle Mickey’s isn't enough?” Franny asks. Ian smiles at that and leans forward, ducking his head so that his niece can kiss the top of his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It looks all better.” Franny declares because there was no boo-boo visible through a ginger-mop, especially since this wasn't an outside boo-boo, it was an inside one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya think? Thanks Fran, you should be my doctor.” Ian chuckles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey and Ian both kiss Franny good night on the head and retreat back to their room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya nervous for the doctor to see the boo-boo on your head tomorrow?” Mickey teases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” Ian blushes, “Best way to explain it Mick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay Dr. Phill. Do ya feel balanced?” Mickey questions softly, as an after-thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian walks up to Mickey and throws both arms around him, “Feel balanced Mick. Really do.” he promises. And he does. His moods were consistent even if his dreams weren't, at least in Ian’s opinion. The sleeping, well the visions of Terry ran through his brain at night instead of the regularly scheduled sugarplums were enough to throw anyone’s sleep off. The quietness, he was dealing with daytime demons too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Mickey believes him, as he falls asleep with anm full of Ian, looking forward to one last day before he goes back to work. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What do you think? Let me know in the comments. This is from a third-person-omnisciencent perspective, so I tried to label the switches. Liam and Franny's kind of wound up being Ian's point of view, but I like the way it turned out. Have a favorite part, line, or POV? Did I get anyone wrong?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Wanna be yours- artic monkeys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Filler fluff</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Leave a comment- tell me your favorite color, breakfast cereal, something even if you dont want to talk about the story</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter 9</span>
</p><p>
  <span>notes- chapter 8/9/10 were meant to be one 30,000 word chapter, but at the speed I write, i figure you guys would rather an 8,000 word update three times than waiting for ever for a big one so if my chapters go up, it's not bc i'm adding more to the story i'm just breaking it up differently… without further ado…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey Milkovich didn't have kids, but if he did, he figured that this would be like leaving them after a maternity leave. He found himself memorizing everything about Ian. How he always swished mouthwash in his mouth four times before spitting it out. The way he looked when he chewed Eggos. How he laughed at cheesy-one liners in Bojack Horseman. Mickey was just happy to observe the ginger in his natural habitat while he could. They'd never get time like this, this soft and unbothered ever again- most likely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Mickey holds Ian’s hand on the way to the psychiatrist, flipping off the guy on the “El” who gave them dirty looks. It's still early and Ian is still pretty out of it, so Mickey doesn't even complain when the red-head’s heavy head droops against his shoulder on the train ride. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The psychiatrist’s office is a brand new one- not just the clinic, because this is what the hospital recommended. The garden variety overworked and under-paid shrink at the clinic woulndt cut it anymore. Not with the complex list of trauma that Ian had to work through. Technically, it was his appointment, but there was no way he was going without Mickey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The building is a tall office-type, and the psych’s office is on the third-floor. They take the levator to avoid three flights of stairs and Ian only slightly panics at the confined space. Mickey should have put claustrophobia on his radar, but it's Ian new things pop up all the time. Despite Ian’s obvious discomfort with the elevator, he braves it without complaint, only cringing slightly when it stops on the second floor for a grandmother to get in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walk in and Mickey iinstructs Ian to sit as he walks up to the receptionist’s desk, giving him a gentle kiss on the head and Ian slunk away to sit down. Probably nosing through a pamphlet on schizophrenia. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mickey Milkovich?” the blonde receptionist balks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes actually, but I'm checking in for Ian. Gallagher.” Mickey responds, slightly confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian’s here too!” she exclaims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who the fuck are you?” Mickey squints.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Angie from high school!” she exclaims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Angie…” Mickey trails.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Zago.” she responds. Mickey does a double take. Angie lost, well half of her Angie. She was older, thinner, but pregnant. A big diamond ring on her hand. Long blonde hair is curled and styled. Make-up adorns her face. She looks pretty, at least pretty to Mickey’s gay standards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No way!” Mickey smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your here for Ian?” Angie asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah married him.” Mickey smiles, holding up his ring finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wasn't Ian on the news for-” Angie asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes he was.” Mickey cuts her off curtly, “He's here to see Doctor Sherman.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, he's in good hands. She's an expert in trauma therapy and PTSD.” Angie promises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She is good with Bipolar too?” Mickey questions, slowly, even though a quick glance behind his head confirms that Ian is on his phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! Can I give you Ian’s medical history forms to fill out?” Angie asks, holding up a stack of papers that was thicker than the bible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding me that stack of papers is longer than my dick! Can't you guys transfer his records from the clinic?” Mickey exclaims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's standard policy for new patients.” Angela confirms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Mickey spends forty-five minutes, scribbling out, rewriting, and confirming all of Ian’s medical information as Ian leaned his head on Mickey’s shoulder and made brief commentary when Mickey didn't know the answer. But Ian mostly just watched Mickey’s hands grip the pen, so hardly it was almost comical. He's lucky he didn't break the pen already. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Doctor Sherman is nice. About forty-five, Mickey thinks. Huge red lips, long extensions in her hair. She definitely makes bank off sick people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey and Ian sit side by side on the couch in her office, Ian curled into Mickey’s side as Mickey runs a hesitant hand up and down his arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She goes over his list of current medications with them. Decides to up the anti-anxiety meds that had recently been added to Ian’s cocktail and lower his antipsychotic just a smidge to compensate. She warns of possible lack of sleep and or increased depression that could go with the change. Warns of nausea and dry-mouth. Ian essentially waves away her concerns, not seeming to care about possible side-effects.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she surprises both Ian and Mickey by asking Ian how he feels that he is coping. Ian looks baffled, “I don't know is there a right way to cope?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only you can answer that.” she tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mickey how do you think Ian is coping here? I want you to be as honest as possible, Ian knows that you're only telling me things to help him, right Ian..” she tells him. Ian nods, giving Mickey, unspoken permission to talk shit about him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian looks up at Mickey expectantly and he takes a hesitant breath, “He's usually cuddly and touchy-feely, but he's attached to my hip. I love that about him, but I go back to work tomorrow and I'm worried about him. The nightmares are still pretty intense, crying, shaking, screaming, kicking, and they used to happen four or five times a night, but now it's like once or twice. I don't mind but I hate seeing him in that much pain. I don't even think he noticed but he's been reverting to a couple of ah, juvenile behaviors to uh cope or whatever.” Mickey explains, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like what?” Doctor Sherman asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He sometimes sucks this thumb in his sleep, always sleeps with full on- pjs and socks on, wants like childhood meals. It's not that I care about the sex aspect, but he's been to afraid to even kiss me. I don't even think you realize it, and it breaks my heart babe, how much he hurt you. When you scream out at night for me to stop hurting you, for Robert to get off you, for Iggy. I just wish I could help you cope.” Mickey admits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The mind often reverts back to old habits that the mind equates with safety or non-stress.” Doctor Sherman explains, “I'd be worried if Ian snapped right back to living life exactly the way that he did pre-incident.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My childhood wasn't safe though.” Ian protests, not wanting to accept it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You had safe moments though, and it was before all of this started. I see in your chart you talked about your sister a lot in reference to your childhood. She probably made you feel a little safe right, better than you felt with Terry?” she asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess so.” Ian agrees, but he then withdraws for the rest of the session, sinking further into Mickey’s side. Doctor Sherman doesn't seem to mind, just continues smiling and chatting with Mickey about the medication and coping strategies. Warns him not to wake Ian up from a nightmare, to let it play out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey nods and yes-es her to death while he strokes Ian’s hair and watches Ian’s sea-green eyes glaze over with silent tears that never fall past his black eyelashes and freckled eye-lids.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian withdraws for the rest of the day and Mickey refuses to push him. He just keeps on as if Ian was mentally-present. As soon as they get home, Ian is so exhausted that he collapses on the couch and goes right to bed without any sort of announcement before-hand. So Mickey takes that as his window of opportunity to get shit done. Text his boss. Complete a few sketches for tomorrow. Make Franny and Liam’s lunch. Start dinner prep. Replace Ian’s meds so there's no confusion. Refill the water-bottle by his bed-side table for Ian’s meds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's jogging down the stairs to throw a load of laundry in the wash when he pauses at the couch. Fiona is sitting there silently, he didn't even know she was home. She has tears streaming down her cheeks as she gently strokes his hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn't even seem bothered when she catches Mickey staring. She just presses her lips together and nods at Mickey. And they don't even have to speak it. Don't even have to verbally communicate about how sad she is on his behalf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How'd the doctor go?” she asks, quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A little much for him, tired out half-way through. They fucked with his meds just a smidge, so he might be a little nauseous tomorrow. Drowsy and moody, but he shouldn't have any nightmares.” Mickey tells her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” she nods, lips pressed to a thin-line. Mickey sees the mask that Fiona had been putting on slip away. She wasn't as put together as she says. With her hair pulled back into a frizzy ponytail and bags under her make-upless eyes, she looks like good-old-Southside-Fiona. Probably exactly what she was afraid of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wish I could stay with him.” Fiona admits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doesn't want you to. He's glad to see you, but he's proud of you. Wouldn't want you to fuck up your life just to take care of him when he's got me.” Mickey reassures her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His bitch?” Fiona giggles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Prefer the term, personal nurse.” Mickey corrects, as he flips her off and walks away. Making a mental note to make Fiona a list.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian wakes up twice in the night to throw up. Mickey kept a trashcan by the door in anticipation, knowing this would happen. Ian’s rosy cheeks shined with sweat and embarrassment as Mickey gently held the trash can to his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don't worry, Fire Crotch. Night time meds hit ya the hardest in the beginning.” Mickey reassures him. Ian doesn't seem too comforted by that, but if he has any nightmares, he doesn't wake Mickey up with them so they must not be too bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey’s alarm goes off at a quarter to eight and he knows it's time to get down stairs and wedge his way in the revolving door that was a “Gallagher morning”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has to wake Ian up for his meds, but it's not time for Ian to get up yet- he needs more sleep after last night. So Mickey sits next to him in bed, fully dressed and holds the cup to Ian’s mouth as he washes the pills down. Shoves a granola bar down Ian’s throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goin?” Ian slurs, half-asleep, but managing to grab Mickey’s wrist and squeeze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah babe, but it's not time for you to get up yet, okay? Sleep in, the more you sleep, the less you'll miss me. I'll be back at five, maybe even earlier.” Mickey promises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mick-” Ian starts but Mickey presses an index finger to Ian’s lips, “Back to bed, you ginger menace.” Mickey teases, but brushes an index finger from his temple to his nose, tricking Ian into closing his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey knows he’ll have to jog to the “El” to make up for the time he spends stroking Ian’s hair and kissing his forehead to make up for lost time, but it's worth it to have peace of mind that Ian isn't upset when he leaves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Fiona had watched Ian for years of his formative life, so when Mickey Milovich left HER, the woman who practically raised Ian a list of things to do with Ian. A fucking guidebook on how to treat her little brother. But Ian is asleep and the house is empty, so she reads it anyway. Scrawled in Mickey’s handwriting ion a sheet of loose-leaf that was torn from Liam’s notebook is </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks for stayin with Ian. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don't let him see this shit or he’ll get all offended or some shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He might vomit some so I'd just let him go at his own pace. Don't take him out of the house unless he wants to go somewhere. Don't take the “El”, it's too loud and it sways back and forth. Just let him sleep, he probably won't even get up till noon. He's good on meds till tonight, but he needs to eat around noon just to fill his stomach up. He’ll probably want grilled cheese or PB&amp;J. Don't fight him on what he wants to eat and try to make him salad, just be glad he's eating. Try not to let him nap after he's up for the day because short naps off schedule usually result in a nightmare.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Make sure he drinks water because the new meds are gonna change his water retention or some shit, just keep him hydrated.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Try to lightly encourage him to shower around three or four. He's good in that way, he can dress and shower himself. I left out socks, underwear, a shirt, sweatshirt, and sweatpants. He does best with layers. You don't have to like to watch him get dressed, just eyeball him after and if he forgot something, gently ask him if he needs socks or whatever. He's not good at drying his hair, but he's not going to ask you for help, so if you can't subtly ruffle it dry, don't even bother. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you're gonna watch TV, get him a blanket. He gets cold easily. Don't watch anything too dark, but he’ll get whiney if you put on The Lorax. Don't talk about Terry and shit unless he brings it up, just let him take the lead.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was feelin pretty low after the doc so he’l probably be mopey for the next two days. Don't call the suicide watch on just yet, but be aware.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If he cries or gets triggered, you can call me or just try doing things that will ground him and talking to him. He's still not great with touch when he's panicking, so let him take the lead. He is aware, and if he says no, don't push him. He really just needs company more than anything else. Throw a book at him or something and he’ll read. Kid likes a project but don't give him a puzzle or some shit, be subtle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If his knee bothers him, offer ice and a pillow for him to lean it on, but he really can't mix pain meds on these new meds, so don't give him any. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'll try and call on  my lunch break around two o’clock, but if I can't, I'll text him inter-mitenetly. He’ll be okay, and don't hover if he doesn't want it. I'll have my phone on me if you need.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiona’s first instinct is to crumple to note, but she doesn't. But the entire thing was bullshit. Ian wasn't eight, and even when he was eight, Fiona didn't coddle him this much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So when Ian pads down the stairs, she tells him to get dressed because they have errands to do. Ian is too sleepy to argue, so he let's her throw jeans and a t-shirt at him. Let's her drag him out of the house without having eaten or drank anything. Doesn't even protest when she shoves him into a seat on the “El”. He just grips the bar and tries to swallow the throw-up in his mouth, shivering from the lack of sweatshirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It shouldn't have surprised Fiona when Ian had a panic attack in the grocery store, and she had to leave without groceries. She shouldn't have been surprised when he threw up the granola bar and bile because his stomach was nearly empty. Shouldn't have been surprised when his skin got covered in goosebumps because she didn't give him a sweatshirt like Mickey said. Shouldn't have been annoyed at the dirty looks from people on the “El” as Ian threw up into the trash can on the train on the way home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It shouldn't have surprised Fiona that the mission failed, but somehow she was. Because this wasn't her Ian anymore. Maybe Mickey was right, maybe he did know best. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Fiona took Ian back home, made him a grilled cheese and water glass while he showered, dried his hair for him, made sure he was wearing every piece of clothing that Mickey had laid out, gave him a blanket on the couch as she flicked on “Gossip Girl”, and tried not to cry out of guilt upon realizing that ian hasn't spoken this entire day. Too far in his own head to realize how badly Fiona had fucked up by ignoring Mickey’s instructions. Wouldn't even blame her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frank stumbled in the door around four, with the groceries that Fiona had called him up and begged him to buy after using the “Ian had a panic attack in the grocery store card”, set the groceries in the kitchen, and flopped on the couch on the other side of Ian. Ian looked shocked to see Frank, but Frank just handed him a beer and set off on a wild tangent of stories about his day that soon had Ian letting out tiny breathy laughs as he listened to them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were the easiest.” Frank admits, “You cried so easily, but as soon as I picked you up you were good. Lip and Debbie and Carl all wanted something when they cried, but you seemed to forget what you were crying about after you were picked up. Little fucker, you'd cry at five in the morning just to be held, and I'd take you down stairs and sit on the couch with you. Little footie pajamas and all, you'd sit on my lap and drink a bottle as we watched Duck Dynasty together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Ian laughs, “I was the easiest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were the easiest. Middle child all the way, always just cryin for attention.” Fiona teases, poking his arm. “But you knew how to get your shit done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep. With Lip and Debbie and Carl, when they didn't want to get out of bed, it was normal. But you, you weren't a morning person but when you heard me say school, you'd drag yourself out of bed and get goin. You had things to look forward to that you couldn't miss always, goals. So when you wouldn't get out of bed, that's how I'd know you were sick.” Fiona tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh you had so many fucking fevers.” Frank laments.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like you were ever there for his fevers.” Fiona snorts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was there for like two.” Frank defends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Out of two-hundred.” Fiona snorts, and they all laugh at that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey had a tough day back. The clients were nice, but it was hard to get back into the swing of it. He missed Ian dearly. He had a client ask him where he was, and he said that his husband was sick so he had to be in the hospital. The customer punched him in the arm for never telling him that he was married when this customer, Lenny a regular, regularly complained about his wife for hours.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He asked for a picture, and Mickey showed him one of Ian, pre-incident sitting across the coffee table from him, smirking in the sunlight, strong and smug as he held a green coffee mug against his white t-shirt in one hand, and held Mickey’s hand with the other hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey told Lenny that Ian wanted a tattoo of Mickey’s name and their anniversary around his wedding ring finger. Lenny liked the idea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tattooed a cherry-skull, virgo star-pattern, Led-Zeppelin cover, someone’s kid’s birthdate in Roman numerals, n”have strength” in Chinese (that one had Mickey sweating as he confirmed the translation for this Karen 7,000 times), and finally a soundwave of someone’s puppy, Teddy, barking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His boss asked him to stop in the office at the end of the day. His boss was married to the head of house, and his boss had given him the apprenticeship and trained him. Making Mickey promise to never do a tattoo like his “Ian Galaher” one again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted to know how Ian was doing, so Mickey said “better than expected, but still out of it” and his boss nodded sympathetically. Mickey was on the train back to the Gallagher residence by 4:45, trying to figure out how to talk Ian into giving him a hand massage on his tattoo-ing hand like he usually does after work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, upon approaching the door he hears Ian screaming and gasping for breath, “too much, too much”, and Mickey’s heart stops completely. Fuck, fuck, fuck, is all he can think as his shaky fingers fumble with the door handle and hear can hear his blood whooshing through his ears. Visions of Ian crying throughout the day while Mickey idly drew tattoos while listening to the Beatles Soundtrack dance through Mickey’s head. Nowhere near as fun as visions of gumdrops.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian?” he shouts upon bursting into the front entry-way, and quickly toeing off his boots. To his surprise Ian pops his head up from the couch, tears of mirth trailing down his face as he turns around to face Mickey, a smile stretched on his face. To make things even better, fucking Frank pops his head up from the couch. And Fiona, looking like the cat that ate the canary.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mick.” Ian manages through a giggle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” Mickey blurts out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easy, easy.” Frank placates, throwing both of his hands up in the air, palms up in mock-surrender, “I'm just after having some quality time with his kids.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But Ian was screaming.” Mickey protests, crossing his arms over his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Laughing.” Fiona confirms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All I did was stay over after bringing over the groceries that Fiona couldn't get at the grocery store today, no harm no foul.” Frank explains.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Groceries?” Mickey spits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, they were at the grocery store today until Ian had a panic attack- ow!” Frank exclaims as Fiona kicks him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He had a WHAT AND WHERE!” Mickey roars.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiona winces, “I learned my lesson about listening to you okay. I dragged him out of bed and to the grocery store without food or a sweatshirt and paid the consequences for it. But look he's all in one piece.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you popped Ian out of bed without eating, and put him on a train?” Mickey shouts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeha, and you know what he threw up a few times and had a panic attack, but we came home after and he showered and we watched some television like you suggested, while he ate grilled cheese, so technically, I got around to your instructions.” Fiona points out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You re-fucking tramatized him!” Mickey roars.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He didn't tell me he didn't want to go out.” Fiona argues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because he probably couldn't. Probably just put his blind faith in you because the new meds make him so out of it on the first day.” Mickey shouts in disgust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Ian calls softly, wobbling over to Mickey, and wrapping his arms around him, “I'm right here, okay. All saƒe.” Ian promises, hugging Mickey himself for the first time in a long time. Taking the steps to engage in physical comfort on Mickey’s behalf, not just his own. It was a huge step. So all Mickey can do is hug back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How was your day?” Ian murmurs, stupid one arm hug gluing Mickey to the spot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tired.” Mickey grumbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can only imagine.” Ian murmurs, kissing Mickey’s cheek, and waving at Fiona and Frank before dragging Mickey to the kitchen, pushing him in a chair and presenting a beer to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian plops in the chair next to him, taking Mickey’s tattoo-ing hand without Mickey even telling him to. He takes it and rubs at the tendons in Mickey’s fingers, instinctively and says, “Tell me all about it.” through this wide smile, that's so big that Mickey almost forgets the past month. He just looks so much like his prior-self, acting so happy that all of Mickey’s annoyance and anger melts away as the tension and cramping from his tattooing hand melts away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day, Ian and Fiona stay in, and Fiona actually follows Mickey’s instructions, except for when she sneaks him a cigarette and he happily smokes it with her on the back porch. Still quiet, but he seems more in-tune to the conversation than yesterday. More quiet than withdrawn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip, Tami, Fred, Sandy, Franny, Carl, Liam, Ian, and Mickey all gather for a great-big Gallagher send-off for Fiona at six o’clock, and at seven, she catches a cab to the airport. There were some tears, but Ian handled it better than Mickey had previously expected him to handle it. Way better. So Mickey tells him to go take a shower because he didn't want to get off the couch with Fiona to shower today, and grabs a beer with the rest of the family.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip only let's the air be light and cheery for five minutes before he has to say,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what's the plan for tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Mickey responds, kind of annoyed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With Ian?” Lip presses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't know, I'm working till about six o clock.” Mickey reasons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm taking Franny to school tomorrow and then visiting Debbie, I'll be back about five.” Sandy offers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We're both working tomorrow, I'm already taking Fred to work.” Lip tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Ian’s not a fucking pet to just take to work like it's a show and tell day.” Mickey sneers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I get off work at about noon because I'm working six to twelve, I can be here about 12:30.” Carl offers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What time do you leave with Franny?” Mickey asks Sandy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About nine.” Sandy answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, see all good.” Mickey confirms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All good?” Lip balks, “All good? He's gonna be alone for almost four hours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you forget he's an adult? Kids still all Southside, he usually sleeps till at least ten aways. He can be okay for two hours alone. His moods are fine.” Mickey shrugs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you want to leave him alone?” Lip balks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, he's a fully-functioning adult. He's really fine until the night, and even then it's just nightmares, give him more credit.” Mickey sneers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Should be fine, he's got all our numbers.” Carl reasons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He hasn't stayed alone at all for a single second since he came back home.” Tami points out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She's right, I can push some shit back, go in later and stay with him.” Lip agrees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So who's going to babysit him the day after tomorrow?” Tami groans, “This is going to turn into one of those chores inst it. That everyone pins on each other and no one wants to do it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well typically.” Ian calls from the landing smirking, but looking completely unamused, “The term baby-sitter implies that there's a baby involved.” Ian stands there, barefoot dressed in a blue t-shirt and black and green pajama pants that fit awkwardly around the knee brace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But uh.” Ian smirks, hopping down the stairs and glaring right at Tami, “Who cares because it's just a chore that no one wants to do anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit Ian, you know she didn't mean it-” Lip starts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fucking save it, Lip. Go to hell.” Ian barks, flinging open the fridge and grabbing a beer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey’s eyes glint with an idea, “Hey yo tough guy, can't drink on your pussy ass meds.” Mickey taunts, purposely getting in Ian’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The fuck Mick.” Ian grumbles as Mickey snatches the beer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You gonna take this shit or should I get your babysitter?” Mickey taunts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop.” Ian deapans, moving away, but Mickey backs him into the corner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What now little bitch? Gonna let another guy walk all over you?” Mickey taunts. It's a dangerous game and he knows it with every fiber of his being, but the out-come could be worth it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mick.” Ian growls, trying to walk around him but failing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, chore what now? Can't fight your way out of this one with oe fist, can you princess?” Mickey teases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck-” Carl starts, but he's cut off by the sound of one of Ian’s fists punching Mickey in the cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ha!” Mickey cheers victoriously, “He may still hit like a bitch, but see he's all Southside still.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian goes slackjaw, “You manipulated me into punching you!” he exclaims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Prefer the term egged on, princess.” Mickey teases, fondly this time, “See he's fine to stay alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just because he's so on edge you can get him to punch you.” Lip sneers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian is still slack jaw, “You know what, fuck you all.” Ian declares, turning on his heel to stomp up the stairs, but the knee brace kind of defeats the effects of the stomp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian climbs into bed, facing the wall and away from Mickey, and Mickey slides in right next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey firecrotch, no strings attached cuddle?” Mickey asks. That was a thing they had always done in fights. If they were fighting, they usually hurt each other and needed a hug, but they were too stubborn to give in. So a no strings attached cuddle meant yes, I am hugging you and love you, but I am still mad and this isn't me giving in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Ian throws a singular hand behind him, and Mickey, thankful for the olive branch, interlaces his finger’s in Ian’s, kids singing his knuckles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sleepy?” Mickey asks, moving close to Ian’s back so he could feel the heat radiate form Ian’s body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goin to bed.” Ian grumbles. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey snorts at how cranky he sounds, while reassuring Mickey that he loves him, “Love you too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's nearly three in the morning when Mickey is awoken by a kick to his thigh,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fu-” but Mickey stops when he realizes that it's his husband who kicks him, as he writhes and struggles with the invisible demons in his head. Fuck what the psych said about waking him up, Mickey can't watch this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian, hey baby.” Mickey tries, gently stroking Ian’s cheek with the back of his hand. Ian bolts up in the same manner that one would if they were woken up via a water bucket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian’s hands lace in his hair and tug as tears well up in his eyes, obscuring the green in them, and making it all wishy-washy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey.” Mickey tries, placing his fingers over Ian’s in an attempt to stop his husband from tearing his own hair out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mick.” Ian sobs, his name over and over again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right here.” Mickey reminds him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mick, I can feel his hands all over me.” Ian gets out in between sobs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But whose hands are on you?” Mickey tries, and Ian wildly shakes his head no. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Red, red, calm down, you're gonna make yourself sick.” Mickey tries, rubbing Ian’s back as his husband buries his head in the one knee that he can bring to his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mick, please.” Ian whines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, Ian?” Mickey asks, imploring at the green-eyed-man before him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, please, make me yours. I<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJLQCf4mFP0"> wanna be yours.</a>” Ian begs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian you are mine.” Mickey reminds him, trying to soothe him by massaging the red curls before him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, he- he was.” Ian gasps out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was what Ian?” Mickey asks patiently as ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was the last person in me.” Ian manages, “Please, Mick, make it you. Please please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Firecrotch, calm down.” Mickey begs, “I'm not gonna have sex with you, not when your like this, I can tell you don't want it. You haven't even been comfortable kissing me on the lips Ian. I'm not gonna take advantage of you like this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're not taking advantage, he was. Mick I was fucking chained. He was the last one, I can, I can, his hands are all over me Mick!” Ian shouts, flicking away an invisible something at the tops of his thighs, like it could chase the demons away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, christ Ian. Calm down. I need you to calm down for me, okay baby?” Mickey begs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will you, will you Mick?” Ian begs, eyes looking up at him in his puppy-dog way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I will, sweetheart, you need to calm down for me first. Here, lay down okay, let me take care of you for once.” Mickey tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You always take care of me.” Ian manages.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That's what we do Ian, we take care of each other, not a contest.” Mickey reminds him as he helps Ian lay down, head on the pillow. Gently stroking Ian’s hair and his good arm for a few minutes until he watched the heaving of Ian’s chest visibly even out, but those green eyes never left his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re doing this my way, Fire Crotch, okay? If I say you've had enough, you've had enough. You can say no or stop at any time, and I will stop, But right now I don't trust you to say stop when you've had enough, so you need to trust me to know when you need to stop before you, okay?” Mickey tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian nods his head frantically, “We’re taking this slow okay. What can you say at any time?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop.” Ian repeats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what will I do?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop.” Ian parrots. Mickey smiles, and gives him a quick peck on the cheek as praise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you still want this?” Mickey asks. Ian snaps his head up and down so fast that Mickey worries for a second that he might snap his neck off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay Ian. Just close your eyes, and let me make you feel good, okay?” Mickey promises, smoothing a hand over Ian’s forehead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian’s green eyes rake across Mickey’s face for a few seconds of hesitation before he lets out a quiet, “Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey gently presses his own lips to Ian’s, not bothering to even push his tongue, because Ian probably isn't ready for that yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey spends a few minutes kissing random areas of Ian, making sure to take it slow so Ian can watch, and isn't surprised by where Mickey’s kisses land. One on the tip of his wrist, and then one up each point on Ian’s inner-arm until he got to Ian’s shoulder. Same with the other arm- even if it was covered in gauze. Governing his freckled fingers in enough kisses that a small amount of giggles actually leave Ian’s mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He makes sure to massage Ian’s hands gently to get him used to some pressure in Mickey’s touch. He spends a few more minutes kissing Ian’s upper body after he takes his husband's shirt off. When Mickey’s head is ducked down to kiss Ian’s heart, Ian surprises him by kissing the top of Mickey’s head, and threading his one arm around Mickey's back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey is sweaty and exhausted, but he focuses on his husband before him, gently tugging off his sweatpants, and stopping to gently kiss his way from the top of Ian’s socks to his thighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's when Mickey notices a bite mark, sitting right on the inside of Ian’s thigh, right below the boxers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey’s heart sinks, but he knows what Ian would want him to do. So he gently kisses over the faded bite mark, and tries not to think about how someone bit him so hard that it drew blood and left a mark. Mickey sucks a hickey onto the bite mark, and stops to glance up at Ian who was staring at the ceiling, checked out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We doin good E?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So good.” Ian promises, looking at Mickey and smiling at him. Not a fake one, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are mine, Ian Clayton. Not Terry’s or Robert’s. Mine.” Mickey proclaims, as he kisses the skin between Ian’s naval and boxer-brief-line.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's not long before Ian’s head is tipped back and the only hands he feels on him are Mickey’s.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>How'd you like it?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Daddy issues- the neighbou</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Read the warnings- heavy</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lets pretend I have any knowledge of how criminial law works</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter 10</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been almost an entire month since Mickey had gone back to work, and nearly two months since Terry had kidnapped him. The past month had been filled with much turmoil and change for every Gallagher, Gallagher-Milkovich, and Milkovich alike from young to old, from blonde to brunette to ginger, from drunk to sober. Every resident, passerby, acquaintance, and occasional inhabitant of 2119 South Wallace Street, Chicago. There seemed to be a strange gravity of the sorts that had it's holds on all of the Gallaghers, Gallagher-Milkovichs, and Milkovichs alike. A feeling like they were going about their day while the sun eclipsed and a phantom reaper was breathing one word down their neck, “doom”. And the impending trial that was scheduled to happen tomorrow only seemed to heighten everyone’s worries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian had gotten his arm cats off and went to physical therapy on Tuesdays with Mickey. Mickey worked everyday but Tuesday and Sunday, and the trial was set to be Tuesday, so he took a half-day on Monday (today), and the day off on Wednesday.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian was still not cleared to do shit because of his knee. Relearning to put weight on that knee had been a bitch. The physical therapist wasn't thrilled with the way he had just taken to limping around in order to resume his daily activities, because it was aggravating his good knee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, he spent the first two weeks after Mickey went back to work, alone for a couple of hours at a stretch, watching Franny and Freddie intermittently for no more than about two hours at a time. Sandy stayed with him most days, but today she was visiting Debbie in prison, as Debbie was due to get out next month… if she behaved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Last Friday, the 16th, the lawyers had sprung Tuesday, April 26th on them as a surprise court date, and Ian had taken it the worst. Knowing he had to give a testimony so much sooner than he thought he would have to. Ian would have to sit on the podium and talk about what Terry did to him, while Terry sat all smug in the defendant’s seat, as if he wasn't guilty. Ian would have to see his sneer, hear his lawyer try to destroy Ian’s credibility based on his diagnosis of a mental illness with psychotic features, hear and watch the lawyers play the tapes for the jury, and he would have to recount every painful detail of his time with Terry. Robert. Iggy. Every scrape, bump, cut, and bruise. Stuff he hadn't even described to Mickey, some stuff that Mickey didn't even know. Some stuff that he had blocked out. HIs psychiatrist told him that he is blocking a fair amount of details about the “incident” out, and Ian just shrugged. He went to the psychiatrist every Friday at 6 o’clock with Mickey. He still wants up to going without him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had also sprung on them that Robert, was a son of a wealthy family in Chicago. The family wanted the trial over and done with quickly. So, they agreed to have Terry and Robert co-defend a trial.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the days after Friday. Ian had regressed a little bit. The doctors didn't seem concerned by the fact that Ian withdrew upon himself like a turtle into its shell, but naturally, Lip did. Ian’s behavior was the subject of many arguments between the eldest Gallagher boy and the youngest Milkovich boy. Mickey didn't see a problem with Ian becoming all silent and clingy again, although he was ruefully for the progress that Ian had made and he missed how Ian’s smiles and laughter had begun to grace his green eyes again. Mickey saw Ian trying not to slip under water and struggling to keep his head afloat, and he saw no problem with letting Ian close his proverbial mouth to prevent the water from filling up his lungs. Because at night, when they would lay close to each other, Ian was still his and that's all that mattered to Mickey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But this past week, someone had to stay with Ian every day because of how far he withdrew in himself. Sandy stayed all day Monday, Mickey was off on Tuesday, Carl stayed Wednesday, and half of Thursday while Sandy stayed the other half, Vee hung out with him on Friday, and on Saturday Carl stayed again. Mickey was off Sunday, and that just left Monday. The day before the trial. Carl had work, Sandy had a job, Vee and Kev were busy, and Mickey had a very important client, so he turned to the one Glaagher who hasn't helped yet- Lip. All week long, all Lip did was throw extra things on the family’s plate, complaining when Carl said he couldn't take Fred because he was staying with Ian, asking why Carl couldn't just stay with them both. Carl answered that Ian deserved his full attention, as he was so fear-stricken with seeing the man who had kidnapped him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That resulted in a royal fight last night between Carl, Sandy, Mickey, Lip, and Tami. Tami refused to take off to stay with Ian because everyone was already taking off to go to the trial and she didn't want to miss another day of tips, even if her boss offered to pay her for going, giving the circumstances of the very publicized trial. Lip refused to take off and tells Mickey that he can't keep babying Ian. That resulted in Sandy punching Lip across the face and saying that it should have been him who was kidnapped instead of Ian. Then Tami got in Sandy’s face and Mickey in Lip’s until Ian wandered in, dead eyes and silence so loud that it shocked them all to see him up and about when he had been rotating from his bed to the couch to the shower all week long. He grabbed a beer from the fridge with tears streaming down his cheeks and looked at Lip shaking his head in disgust and had said, “I haven't needed anything since I was five you know, and now that I do I'm too much right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip had caved after that, and showed up all grouchy in the morning, crumpling the note that Mickey had given to Fiona, Carl, Sandy, and Vee. Citing that he didn't “need a fucking list to watch a twenty-three-year-old sleep”. Mickey would have punched him if he wasn't already running late.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So when Mickey toed off his boots in the living room, he wasn't expecting it to be silent except for Lip muttering to Freddie, who sat on his lap as a movie played with no volume to keep Fred occupied. Ian was next to him, chest heaving in his sleep like he had gone to bed crying. Lip is gently scratching at Ian’s shoulder as he sleeps, muttering to Fred, “See, the responsibility never ends Fred. My baby brother is twenty-three and I still take care of him. It's a lifetime job of trying to make sure that your siblings are protected. You'll see soon when mommy has that baby. Being a big brother is one of the best jobs I've ever had, and you're going to have to keep your baby brother safe too. You know bud.” Lip coos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he looks up, Mickey is smirking at him, with his arms up in surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit Mick, didn't see you there!” Lip exclaims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nightmare?” Mickey asks, knowingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeha, he woke up with one, just got him back down.” Lip tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So uh, Tami’s knocked up?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Lip nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We found out, uh the day before Ian was taken. No excuse, but it's why we’ve been kind of bitchy. She just found out yesterday that it's a boy.” Lip says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Congrats man!” Mickey smiles, and means it, “Isn't that gonna uh like activate cancer or some shit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, uh the kind of cancer gene she has somehow gets helped by having a baby. I don't really know the specifics but her doctor gave her the green light, so.” Lip says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That's amazing, how come you didn't say nothin sooner?” Mickey questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn't wanna steal Ian’s spotlight and I kind of uh.” Lip pauses to bite his lip, “Feel embarrassed. We can barely afford one kid and my shitty house, now I gotta work myself to death to avoid asking Tami’s dad for help.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile falls off Mickey’s face, “That's why you guys were so hesitant to help Ian, who was kidnapped and tortured, after he came back from the hospital. Money?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I mean nothing personal, he'd understand.” Lip says, not meeting Mickey’s hardened stare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Money is just fucking paper man. We would have helped you, Gallagher’s take care of each other- even I know that. But you fucked over Ian who has never let you down once, loyal as a fucking labrador.” Mickey barks, and takes a deep breath to compose himself so he doesn't wake up Ian or disturb Fred, “For ten dollars an hour?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's not like that.” Lip argues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know about the settlement?” Mickey questions, eyebrows practically in his hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What settlement?” Lip asks sheepishly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Robert, the one who assaulted Ian, he's got money. Insurance. The suit against him is criminal, not civil, but if he gets found guilty, which he will, his lawyer comping Ian’s medical bills and all the time he's on disability to shorten his sentence and show remorse. Despicable evil because he’ll be back on the streets sooner, but that's the rich white male way. And in addition, the alley Ian got kidnapped in- it was next to one of these huge chain of yuppi boujee neon-colored-smoothie places where they make the fruit bowls. The security cameras in the alley were out so in order to avoid a culpability lawsuit, which we would probably lose but they are too rich to care and don't want their name associated with Terry and Robert, they settled for two-hundred-thousand dollars if we dropped the matter. Two-hundred-thousand dollars was like twenty bucks to them, but it would be life changing for Ian. But Ian isn't keeping it, his first thought was how much good that money can do. Not the apartment he's always wanted for me and him, not our bills- his first thought was Liam, Fred, and Frannie’s college bills. Your house costs. Debbie’s lawyer funds. Ian is splitting it six ways- one for us, one for Carl, one for Liam that's going in a trust until he turns eighteen-years-old, one for Fiona, one for Debbie, and one for you and Tami. You'll get thirty-thousand-dollars, enough to cover the loss of missing one day of work for him, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mick, I had no idea-” Lip splutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Save it.” Mickey practically growls, shaking Ian’s shoulder gently as the ginger begins to stir. “Sad thing is, if the shoes were flipped, Ian would have helped you before the money, regardless of anything else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All Lip can do is stare forward in embarrassment, face matching the same color as Ian’s hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All money is, is fucking green paper. He's family.” Mickey reiterates.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C'mon, Ian. Time to get up. Let's go grab a shower and lay out clothes for tomorrow, take it easy huh?” Mickey soothes, kissing the top of Ian’s head as Ian rubs his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Needless to say, Lip was no longer planning on staying for dinner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that night, Mickey and Ian were laying in bed together, clothes laid out, alarms set, meds taken, and dinner eaten in bed. Ian’s knee was bothering him so he had it propped up on a pillow, but the rest of his body was cocooned in every blanket they had, a look of dead vacancy settled in his eyes, which would normally freak Mickey out, but Ian laying on his chest, tracing Mickey’s tattoo feels grounding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The longer they laidi there, the more Ian melted into Mickey’s arms and became more and more aware of his surroundings. Smiling weakly at the stupid one-liners in Bojack Horseman. Leaning into Mickey’s touch. Peeking his head up to peer at Mickey’s phone when he texted or played Candy Crush. He was definitely in there, just without the mental energy to be fully present as his brain was occupied with the swirling and paralyzing fear of seeing his two attackers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey was scared too, but nowhere near Ian’s level. The rational part of Mickey knew that Terry would be behind handcuffs with guards, but it still made his heart seize. But there was one difference- Mickey would be with Ian this time. This wasn't a cheap shot in the alley, Mickey would be right there, not leaving Ian’s side. But what worried him the most was what he couldn't protect Ian from coming back to haunt Ian- what Terry and Robert had done to him. What Mickey couldn’t protect him from was what was going to be said in court. You couldn't punch at words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Ian.” Mickey whispers gently. Green eyes flick up at the mention of their name, and Mickey feels his heart size at the innocence that they contain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You remember one of the days after you first woke up, how I tried to prove to you that I was married to you by showing you my tattoo. How you wrinkled your nose and said </span>
  <em>
    <span>that's not even spelled right</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Mickey mocks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian rolls his eyes, “‘S not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What would you think of me getting it fixed to be spelled ri-” Mickey starts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Ian cuts him off, “I love it just the way it is. ‘S perfect.” Ian slurs, drowsy from sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey rubs up and down Ian’s arm comfortingly, “Wanna make an appointment with me soon? Want that ring tattoo still?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An appointment?” Ian raises his eyebrows playfully, “For me, your favorite client.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Old man Brian is my favorite client.” Mickey teases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shush-” Ian starts, but falls silent when someone knocks on the door. They both pop their heads up from their blanket cocoon in order to peep at the doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liam opens the door, after waiting a second or two for an objection from the pair. “Hey, are you guys busy?” Dressed in oversized, blue, hand-me-down pajamas that were probably every other Gallagher’s at some point or another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey scrambles to a semi-seated position, “Not at all, lazy-bones here was just trying to cuddle me to death. Why, what's up? Something wrong?” Mickey panics.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's um.” Liam starts from the doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come in, Liam.” Ian urges. Liam takes a step in and closes the door, taking a big breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I've been having nightmares about tomorrow. And Ian, I'm scared. I'm scared.” he pauses for a moment while his voice breaks, “so scared of something happening to you again.” Liam finishes, nodding resolutely as tears squeeze his throat and leak down his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh Liam.” Ian sighs, opening up his arms and Liam instantly takes that as his cue, clamoring over Mickey to dive into his brother’s arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothings going to happen to me.” Ian promises, but Mickey can see the tears of fear shining in his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something already did happen to you.” Liam sobs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And he's gonna go away for a long time for it. You never have to worry about Terry getting anyone again, okay?” Ian sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But what if he gets out of jail?” Liam cries into Ian’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If he does get out of jail ever.” Mickey starts, rubbing at Liam’s back, “Won't be till he's old and rickety and you only have to worry about him hittin you with his cane but he's so blind that he missed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liam snorts a little into Ian’s shoulder and pulls back to lay in between the pair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don't have to be nervous for me, I'm gonna be just fine.” Ian promises, smoothing back Liam’s hair as he leans down next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey and Ian settle on either side of Liam, gently whispering soothing words until they see his breath begin to even out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cuddly fucking Gallaghers.” Mickey snorts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian lifts his head above Liam’s on the pillow and surprises Mickey by kissing him and whispering, “I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they fall asleep like that, gazing into each other’s eyes with Liam sleeping peacefully between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's three am when Mickey jolts out of bed, feeling the edges of dread swirling around him. Usually after a nightmare, all he needs is the reassurance that Ian is there to fall back asleep. But this time. Ian isn't there. He's nowhere to be found in fact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey’s heart sinks at the sight of Liam sleeping soundly next to a pile of crumpled up blankets and an imprint from where Ian’s head was in the pillow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rationally, he knew Ian probably went to the bathroom, but that didn't stop him from tearing through the house like he was the Tasmanian Devil.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bathroom? No.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carl’s room? No.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Franny’s room? No.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liam’s empty room? No.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With each place Mickey checked, his heartbeat increased and his footsteps became more frantic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey was about to lose his shit when he noticed that the back door was slightly ajar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus fuck Ian!” Mickey exclaims upon finding the red-head staring into space while standing on the back steps, holding a cigarette that he never even got around to lighting, “You scared ths shit out of me you fucking peice of shit!” Mickey seethes before wrapping Ian in a tight hug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘M sorry.” Ian mumbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, jesus. Don't be sorry, just you're gonna give me a heart attack Ian.” Mickey whispers into his ear as he scratches at Ian’s scalp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Couldn't stay in bed. Can't sleep. Nightmares.” Ian mumbles in broken bits of sentences.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why didn't you wake me up?” Mickey sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Work so hard, n you take care of me every night. Need your sleep. He's your dad too. You're scared of him too.” Ian slurs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian, c'mon let's get inside it's freezing. We’ll talk about it there okay?” Mickey promises, cupping Ian’s cheek. Ian nods with glazed over eyes and holds out his hand, allowing Mickey to drag him inside and going without a fight when Mickey shoves him into a chair at the counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Too early for coffee. Gonna make some of Debbie’s tea bags that she left behind. Or at least try.” Mickey tells Ian.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit there in silence for a few minutes while Mickey fixes up the tea. He doesn't really know how to make tea, but how hard can it be? Ian sits in the chair, leaning slumped against the counter and looking absolutely miserable as he fixes his gaze on the counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here freckles, ‘s hot be careful.” Mickey tells him, gently patting his husband’s wrist as he passed him the mug, thinking Ian would put it down and wait for it to cool off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Mickey turned around to wash the dishes that he had used, Ian just sat there staring blankly and holding the scalding mug in his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Mickey turned around a minute later he almost dropped Franny’s sippy cup out of shock. “Ian, christ, put that down, you're gonna burn your hand!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey scrambles over and plops in the cahri next to Ian, tugging his mug away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian your hand.” Mickey sighs, grabbing Ian’s wrist to inspect the searing rose burns on top of the cut from Terry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘S all ready burnt from a helicopter.” Ian mumbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey pulls Ian into what he called a “corrective cuddle”. The reason Ian coulndt stay home this week is exactly that. All of his self-destructive habits like pulling his hair or scratching his arm until it bled scared Mickey because Ian truly seemed to believe that he deserved it or it was no big deal. So Mickey’s new strategy was just to hug Ian, because he didn't understand why Ian did it, but he did still love him more than anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey blows on the tea for a few more minutes, still enveloping Ian in an awkward embrace as the two share a cup, each taking a sip and giving each other a look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tea is gross.” Ian whispers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey nods his head in agreement, spitting the tea back into the cup, “So gross.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later, Mickey tells Ian to lay down first, mindful of Liam, and then climbs on top of him, careful to avoid Ian’s knee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian seems confused, but Mickey just secures his arms around Ian’s neck and Ian wraps his arms around Mickey’s back on instinct. Mickey smirks smugly into Ian’s neck as he presses his body closer, now Ian couldn't get up without waking Mickey up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey blames Liam for the fact that he can even make the analogy between this morning and the “reaping morning” on the Hunger Games. Liam wanted to watch it to compare the socioeconomic status of something to today's capitalistic something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So now, it feels like reaping mornings for Mickey. Getting all pretty for the chance of slaughter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At six am, Liam wakes up, naturally stretching and yawning. Mickey wakes up with him and tells Liam to go watch television downstairs. Good naturedly, Liam does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian isn't too much of a pain in the ass when Mickey wakes him up. Mickey doesn't think that it's fully dawned on Ian’s groggy state yet, the severity of the day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey gets dressed in a <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=mickey+shameless+season+5+funeral&amp;tbm=isch&amp;ved=2ahUKEwivzorjgKbuAhWDBt8KHe1AA2QQ2-cCegQIABAA&amp;oq=mickey+shameless+season+5+funeral&amp;gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQAzoECAAQHjoGCAAQCBAeUNafAVjorwFgpLIBaABwAHgAgAFHiAGaBJIBATiYAQCgAQGqAQtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZ8ABAQ&amp;sclient=img&amp;ei=NMUFYK_kN4ON_AbtgY2gBg&amp;bih=821&amp;biw=1440#imgrc=Ut4sOFS28xLYQM">grey dress s</a>hirt, slacks and a belt. Ian has a <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=ian+caleb+shameless&amp;tbm=isch&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiQ4aiVgKbuAhVNHN8KHRMnAZQQ2-cCegQIABAA&amp;oq=ian+caleb+shameless&amp;gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQAzICCABQnlZYnlZgw1hoAHAAeACAAUuIAUuSAQExmAEAoAEBqgELZ3dzLXdpei1pbWfAAQE&amp;sclient=img&amp;ei=kcQFYNDUMs24_AaTzoSgCQ&amp;bih=821&amp;biw=1440#imgrc=A8g02XoFUzgfLM">similar grey shirt</a>, black pants, and a grey and white tie because they only had one and it should obviously go to Ian. The lawyer says to put Ian’s knee brace on over his pants to have him look more sympathetic, so that's what they do. Mickey combs his own hair, and helps Ian out of instinct because it's starting to settle in on Ian- reaping day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They take a separate train then everyone else because Mickey sees no need to carpool. Tami’s sister, Cami, and Brad are watching Fred and Franny for the Gallaghers. Lip and Tami are driving themselves there. Sandy is finding her own way. And Carl is taking Liam, who insisted on going and no one could talk him out of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey didn't want to talk on the way. No room for small talk. Ian didn't want to either, he just grabbed Mickey’s hand and squeezed at it in intermittent intervals. Mickey squeezed back. Neither knew who was comforting who.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they got there, Tami, Lip, Carl, Liam, and Sandy were all sitting in the isles already. The lawyers were at the tables. All that was missing was Terry and Robert.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey and Ian took a seat behind the lawyers table, a couple of rows up from the Gallaghers. Ian eased into Mickey’s side, eyes wide and fearful as he checked the door every minute, waiting for Terry and Robert to be led in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Terry was led in first,<a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=dennis+cockrum+ahs&amp;sxsrf=ALeKk02BN4To4eOjQYutHXpThCfHvJdfJQ:1610991447333&amp;source=lnms&amp;tbm=isch&amp;sa=X&amp;ved=2ahUKEwjL3NDngqbuAhUmMVkFHe4PBZwQ_AUoAnoECBEQBA&amp;biw=1440&amp;bih=821#imgrc=uAwVDuC33VqR7M"> in a suit flan</a>ked by two guards and a small mousey lawyer whispering in Terry’s ear. Terry sneers as he passes by the pair, and Mickey swears that Ian’s heart completely stopped breathing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhhhh, shhhh, it's okay.” Mickey soothes, rubbing an arm up and down Ian’s arms, trying to rub his back, and trying to soothe him by stroking his hair. Nothing works.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Robert is led in. It's the first time that Mickey sees him in person, he's seen Terry loads of times before regrettably, but seeing Robert breeze past, not even gazing at everyone like he was above them, made Mickey’s blood boil. If it weren't for his husband who was practically paralyzed and plastered to his side, Mickey would have gotten up and punched him out, and sat in jail happily afterwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks like he doesn't care. <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=royal+tenenbaum&amp;tbm=isch&amp;hl=en&amp;chips=q:royal+tenenbaum,g_1:luke+wilson:1gQR3Sl317Y%3D&amp;sa=X&amp;ved=2ahUKEwj5of2yg6buAhXZG98KHdwWD0UQ4lYoAnoECAEQHQ&amp;biw=1440&amp;bih=821">Like this is a business meeting</a>. Like he didn't scar Ian for life. Like this is all a game to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It sickens Mickey to the core.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tami practically throws up looking at Terry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip can't help but think of how Ian told him of the time that he caught Mickey and Ian together- how Svetlana came in and how Yev came to be on the night of Mickey’s first wedding after Lip had gotten his plastered brother to bed. How Ian had sobbed talking about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liam feels the hatred seeping off of Terry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carl sees the bailiff uncuff him and feels the anger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sandy wants to murder her uncle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But no one knows what to make of Robert. A second monster in all of this. He wasn't some veil mastermind. Simply a sleazy rich guy who hung out at the strip club where Terry began to formulate his plane. Richard taught him about technology. How to kidnap without a trace. How to hit Mickey where it hurts. And Robert made sure to tell the jury that he was just “setting Ian straight.” His testimony was pitiful. The jury all looked shaken. Nothing the lawyer said could spin the hatred that came out of Robert’s mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Terry was up next. Completely uncooperative. Not answering questions in more than one-word answers. He sneered at his son and son-in-law and he outright denied every accusation thrown against him even if Robert had just cockilly admitted to it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So then they showed the videos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Videos even Mickey hadn't seen before. Because the cameras were rolling the whole time, even if they weren't always broadcasting to Mickey. Ian couldn't watch. He tucked his head in Mickey’s shoulder’s and covered his ears, his eyes squeezing shut so tightly that it must have been painful. Tami took Liam out of the room for it. Mickey’s eyes were glued forward, he couldn't look away. He finally understood “bad car crash” as he watched Ian’s life go up in flames.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Literally as he was burned, cut, and tortured on camera.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clip that they played had Ian sitting on an old mattress in the corner of the warehouse, this must have been the second day because his face was kind of clear, but he still had a black eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Terry was filming it, he was looming over Ian as Ian sat there, in a haze, rocking slightly seeming dizzy as anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dirty fucking whore.” Terry spat, tugging on Ian’s hair so tightly that Ian’s whole body jerked like a puppet on strings. “You're lucky I let you breathe the same as me. Fucking fa*got Gallaghers infecting us like cancer.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A sharp slap sounded across Ian’s face.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is he still worth it? Worth all of this?” Terry sneard, “He’ll never want someone this broken afterwards.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He's so worth it.” Ian smiled, mouth full of blood, “Worth it. He’ll always love me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Punch to the gut.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Uhhhh.” Ian groaned.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You really are gay, Gallagher. Sad because you could have been a looker if you went too busy spittin god in the face.” he sneered, spitting in Ian’s face.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Several more clips were shown. Ian being soaked in pee, held down in water, burned, hit, assaulted, and finally a clip of Ian screaming and sinking to his knees because Terry had shown Ian a manipulated video of Mickey dying. Of Franny dying. Lip. Liam. Carl. Debbie. All of them. Fake videos, but Ian wasn't in the right headspace to realize. So Mickey watched him grieve everyone he's ever loved, until Robert came and told him </span>
  <em>
    <span>“they were alive… for now. And they'll stay that way if you cooperate”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robert used Ian like a science experiment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interesting thing is that Terry’s lawyer is absolute shit. Public defender's office. He doesn't pipe up once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey watches Terry downright smirk as the videos play. Evidence. Robert seems indifferent like he's watching a documentary on Netflix, bored almost.He seems to have separated himself from the crime entirely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The prosecution is told to call their first witness. Mickey tugs Ian to a standing position in anticipation, but they don't call Ian first. Not Mickey either. Everyone’s head snaps towards the sound of the door opening as someone brezzes in, brown suit and looks fresh as a daisy… if daisies were smug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iggy breezes in, right as rain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The prosecution would like to call Iggy Milkopvich to the stand.” the lawyer says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iggy breezes right by everyone stopping to ruffle Ian’s hair and kiss the top of Mickey’s head. Cool as a cucumber as the fucker swears in on a bible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian is frozen, so is everyone else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All Ian can manage is two words, three if you want to be a grammar freak, “He's alive.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Suprising right, let me know what you think</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Yellow- Coldplay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The title is the best I can do</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Read the trigger warnings, this is short sorry</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>chapter 11</p><p>Major trigger warnings: gun violence, bleeding, GSW, homophobia, death, etc etc etc- read at your own risk.</p><p>Author’s note, having trouble writing and this is all I have so I added another chapter and just cut off my outline half way because I like this cliffhanger anyways. Sorry this is so short, next chapter is the last one, and then the epilougue!<br/>------------------------</p><p>Like most seventh graders, Mickey’s seventh grade self learned what a plot twist was in ENglish class. The actual dictionary definition according to WIkipedia was, “ a literary technique that introduces a radical change in the direction or expected outcome of the plot in a work of fiction. When it happens near the end of a story, it is known as a twist or surprise ending.”</p><p>Mickey could spit back that definition like nobody's business. His seventh grade teacher had asked him for an example, and he told her that his “entire life was a fucking plot twist” So the teacher made him write “a literary technique that introduces a radical change in the direction or expected outcome of the plot in a work of fiction. When it happens near the end of a story, it is known as a twist or surprise ending” ten times over on the board. And another ten when Mickey mouthed off about the first ten. Now, Mickey could recite that definition, it was burned in his brain. Just like this moment would be- burned in.</p><p>This was the biggest plot twist that Mickey had ever seen because Ian was so sure that Iggy was dead that he grieved him every night.</p><p>Mickey had seen the footage and the police had said he was probably dead. The only reason Terry wasn't brought up on charges for Iggy’s death, was there was no body. No proof that it was Terry’s gun that did it.</p><p>“Ho. Ly. Shit.” is really all that Mickey can manage to get out. This new discovery is a little too much for Ian and he's practically hyper-ventiliating as Lip shoves water in his mouth from behind. All the tears that Ian had cried for Iggy seemed to come back up as his pupils blew and his mind struggled to keep up.</p><p>While the lawyers were arguing with the judge over the validity of Iggy’s trial, Lip had to force himself to sit down at Mickey’s insistence. Making a scene woulndt help Ian, he really just needed Mickey to settle. And Mickey couldn't settle himself as the shock settled deep into his bones and flowed through his arteries to his capillaries to his veins like it was blood and circulated through his body with every shaky breath.</p><p>“Total plot twist.” Sandy chuckles, slightly amused and impressed with her cousin. Coming back as a zombie from a presumed death via Terry Milkovich was an impressive achievement in any family, but Sandy found herself immensely curious.</p><p>The youngest Gallagher and Tami had never seen Iggy and had seldom watched the videos, so Lip had to whisper to Tami who it was.</p><p>How Iggy was the one who helped Ian. Mickey’s brother had flipped on the good side. How his love for his brother, although not as straightforward and upfront as the Gallagher kind of love, was just as deep.</p><p>Mickey had made his peace with Iggy’s death. He had grieved him both in private and with Ian. Ian cried about survivor’s guilt almost every night. How he wouldn't be there without Iggy and now Iggy’s dead. How Iggy didn't deserve to die for Ian. And now Iggy was here, alive. The fucker had been alive this whole time while Mickey was crying into his husband’s red hair in the wee hours of the night.</p><p>The judge argues with Robert’s lawyer for a minute or two as Robert’s lawyer tries to prove how Iggy was presumed to be dead and this could be anyone. But, Iggy produces I.D. that matches the picture on his long stack of court records. And most importantly, documentation of him being in witness protection. That sends the whole court into silence. The judge almost calls a recess, but Ian’s lawyer pushes for Iggy’s statement to take place as soon as possible.</p><p>The jury seems to be shocked, because they surely thought that they were getting a courtroom drama that ended with a contested parking ticket. Now they have a homophobic dad, rich asshole, lazarus brother, fragile ginger victim of the hate crime, and one raven headed guy who was the homophobic dad’s son, the lazarus brother’s brother, and the ginger victim’s husband all in one. This was better than Scandal for them, but sympathies raised at the distress that the married couple was showing throughout this whole trial.</p><p>But they didn't have the full picture. They didn't know the resilience and hardships that Mickey and Ian had endured over the past decade to get to where they are now. The kind of love that went into jail cells, swept across state borders, survived breakups, survived attempted murders of one's half-sister, survived both of their numerous crazy siblings and insane parents, and most importantly overcame what it means to be an openly-gay couple on the Southside. The jury would never get that.</p><p>So, Iggy re-swears on a bible, despite the fact that the only time he's ever been to church has been to steal from the collection basket.</p><p>“So,” the lawyer starts, “When did you first meet Mr. Gallagher.”</p><p>“He had to have been little. Maybe four or five. I beat up his perv doctor with my dad.” Iggy says.</p><p>“And when did you first become aware of his relationship with your brother?” the lawyer asks.</p><p>“Right after Mickey’s first wedding. I caught him crying over a picture of Ian, because Ian was in the army. Mickey told me then, because he really had no choice. Told me how the entirety of his first marriage was because Terry caught Ian and Mickey together. Forced Svetlana on Mickey.” Iggy says.</p><p>“Let's move away from that and focus on the current incident.” the lawyer says, barely concealing a smirk.</p><p>“What did your dad ask you to come to that warehouse for, on the day in question?” the lawyer asks.</p><p>“A drug job.”</p><p>“And what did you witness happen to Mr. Gallagher, please be as factual as possible and leave out anything that contains opinion?”</p><p>“Tortured him. Emotionally and physically. Hurt him on camera so Mickey would see it.”</p><p>“Did you help Terry at all?”</p><p>“I never hurt Ian, but I stayed to help Ian, so I had to help Terry a little. I mostly cleaned Ian for Terry so Terry could continue on with him.” Iggy explains.</p><p>“Did Terry ever disclose his motives for this?”</p><p>“Several times actually. It's because he's a homophobe.”</p><p>“Have you witnessed your father making homophobic comments or daying homophobic slurs before this incident?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“How often would you say?”</p><p>“Every day of my life since birth. It was just expected in my house that you would share the same homophbic ideations.” Iggy states.</p><p>“And do you?” the lawyer asks.</p><p>“Do I what?” Iggy questions.</p><p>“Let me rephrase, do you share they same homophobic ideations?”</p><p>“Not at all, quite the opposite indeed.” Iggy smirks.</p><p>“So, that brings us right to our next question.” the lawyer says, “Where have you been all of this time?”</p><p>“Well, I barely made it out of the shoot-out myself. I really should have died. I slipped out the fire exit and collapsed right there in the icey-old snow of the woods. I really was like this close to bleeding out and my vision was starting to swim when I heard barking. Just like dad’s attack dog. Except this one started licking my face. And before I knew it, there was a beard in my face. Some lumberjack who lived in the woods named Hunter.” Iggy says.</p><p>“Hunter Farley, according to the police records.” the lawyer notes.</p><p>“Yes that's him. After he patched me up, he called the police with me and the chief detective on Ian’s case came by. They put me in witness protection, of the sorts. Hunter was paid a stipend for taking care of me and we stayed in his cabin, weren't supposed to leave because I was presumed to be dead and Terry would put a hit out on me if he ever knew of me being alive, and I was still on death’s door. So Hunter and I waited it out together.” Iggy explains.</p><p>“And what is your relationship to Mr. Farley?” the lawyer asks.</p><p>“Well, we spent a lot of time by the fire in a cozy cabin.” Iggy smirks.</p><p>“Please elaborate further.” the lawyer requests.</p><p>“Well, it seems I lived out the stereotypical lesbian cottage-core fantasy as a dude.” Iggy smirks.</p><p>“Please clarify for the courtroom the nature of your relationship with Mr. Farley.” the lawyer pushes.</p><p>“Fits into the sexual or romantic category.” Iggy smirks.</p><p>And that's all it takes.</p><p>“No further questions, your hon-” the lawyer starts but he's never able to finish. Terry’s lawyer never cross-examines Iggy. No additional witness is ever called. Because before the rest of the regularly-scheduled courtroom programming can proceed, Terry’s lawyer does something unexpected- he takes out a gun.</p><p>Now it made sense to Mickey. Why this lawyer was so shit. Because he probably wasn't even a lawyer. Just one of Terry’s goons in a comb-over and a stolen-suit and tie that didn't even match. This was never going to be a trial, the intent for Terry was to never have his son leave the courtroom, even if he went down with him. Iggy’s shouting had just triggered the plan earlier than previously planned.</p><p>“ARGHHHHHH.” Terry let out a massive roar as he rose from his seat in a frenzy of rage at this new piece of evidence.</p><p>Now it made sense to Mickey, why the lawyer had gone back to his car so many times for notes. They had just assumed he was shitty, but really he was just hoping the security guard would get tired of checking him so thoroughly, and he did.</p><p>It made sense why Iggy hid all of these weeks.</p><p>The lawyers made sense.</p><p>Terry’s reaction made sense.</p><p>What didn't make sense to Mickey is why he was glued to the spot.</p><p>The lawyer thrust the gun into Terry’s hands and he clicked the safety off.</p><p>Lip hid his two brothers and Tami behind him while Sandy charged forward to join the fray.</p><p>“Woah pops calm down.” Iggy placates, throwing both of his hands up as he hopped down from the stadium. The bailiff pulled out a gun, but he couldn't de-escalate the situation while the gun was trained on Iggy’s chest.</p><p>“I'm not going to have both of my sons being cock-suckers!” Terry seethes. And that springs Mickey forward. Ian whines in terror as Mickey shoots up to his brother’s defense, but Sandy grabs Ian and moves him from his catanotic state, holding both of her fists up in preparation for the fight that would break-out once the gun was gone, and urging Ian to do the same as she pulled him to his feet.</p><p>“Pops, why is it so bad?” Mickey asks, holding both his hands up as he shifts closer to the podium. The judge stands stock still and the jury hasn't made a sound since, not even bothering to duck.</p><p>“It's unnatural.” Terry seethes.</p><p>“Sounds pretty gay to me dad. Why do you care so much, unless your gay too! That’d be a hoot, bloodline ends here huh?” Iggy taunts, and Mickey has no clue what his plan is.</p><p>“I will not have you two tarnishing my bloodline!” Terry exclaims.</p><p>Sandy pulls Ian closer to the fray, hoping the adrelinelne would spark a fighting instinct in the ginger, “Don't you mean three?” she taunts. “Give it up Terry, the Milkoviches are gay.”</p><p>“What reputation? Of being knock-off-Nazi’s?” Iggy sneers.</p><p>“Guys, tone it down.” Mickey grits out, beginning to panic.</p><p>“I've always been gay Terry, was born gay and I'll die this was. It's natural to me, and I'M not hurting anyone, only you are.” Sandy tells him.</p><p>“I'm not going to win this one am I, bloodline that dies here?” Terry asks, the confidence seeming to deflate as his tone shifts to something foreign.</p><p>“No, you're not.” Iggy insists.</p><p>“We’re not.” Terry corrects, the same small tone as his posture shifts, and his legs spread apart.</p><p>Ian notices it before Terry can even say the words and his body is in motion before Terry’s even is. Mickey notices, but he's trapped. They're all trapped as they hear the words, “We’re all going down then.”</p><p>Boom. Iggy is shot in the chest.</p><p>Boom. The shot that was meant for Mickey as bit by Ian as Terry says those words.</p><p>Boom. The third shot that was meant for Sandy never occurs or even leaves the barrel of the gun because the bailiff shoots him clean.</p><p>Three bodies crumple to the floor before Terry finishes saying “then”. Terry, Ian, and Iggy all crumple.</p><p>Mickey’s mind fries for a second as he crumples to his knees with them.</p><p>The black of his pants become darkened as they are soaked by the three different kinds of blood that are mixing on the floor. The bailiff is trying to find a pulse.</p><p>Terry is mostly-dead already. Eyes open and wide, stuck in that sneer as they will always be. Bullet right through his neck hit his jugular. He bleeds out slowly and painfully, and no one even blinks when he dies in the middle of all of the chaos.</p><p>Iggy is on his side, spluttering and coughing up blood as he lays on his side and as Sandy rubs his back and screams for medical attention. Tami took Liam outside and Carl and Lip were screaming with everyone else in the mix.</p><p>Ian lies flat on his back, like he is lounging in bed with Mickey and watching television. His eyes aren't focused on the television thought- they are purely focused on Mickey. So green and intense, and the most focused and present that Mickey remembers them since Terry took him. Ian has one of his hands enclasped in Mickey’s like he's going to sleep.</p><p>Ian has a smile on his face, bloody and small.</p><p>“I love you Mick.” he whispers, kissing the back of Mickey’s hand.</p><p>“No you don't asshole, you don't get to do this. Not now, not like this. Not for a long time.” Mickey squeaks out.</p><p>“I love you so much Mickey, you were so worth all of it. I never deserved you.” Ian whispers, getting cut off by a coughing fit.</p><p>“Hey Gallagher, eyes on me, baby, listen to me. This isn't it. I promise, we're going to move out together. Have some kids of our own, a dog, the whole nine yards. With Liam and Carl, and your whole crazy family can come to visit us whenever they want.” Mickey promises, desperation risking in his throat.</p><p>“Love you Mickey.” Ian promises, repeating those three words over and over again like they tethered him to something. To life.</p><p>“Ian no.” Carl sobs, kneeling by Ian’s side, face red and crumbling as he practically sobbed into the carpet.</p><p>The building’s paramedic tries to staunch the blood flow to both Ian and Iggy’s wounds as they bled profusely. An ambulance was on the way. The jury was led out. The judge as well, convicting Robert without even checking for the jury’s vote.</p><p>“Hey asshole, I love you. Tell Hunter I love him.” Iggy splutters, knocking his fist weakly against Mickey’s back. All Mickey can do is nod. This is his worst nightmare. Two of the people that he loves the most’s blood soaking his clothes, and he can't even help.</p><p>----------------------</p><p>Later that evening, Mickey is in a funeral home, with Sandy by his side, holding his hand.</p><p>“So how many caskets do you want again?” the funeral director asks, confused.</p><p>“For my father, we are not paying for anything. Do whatever with him, we just want the one casket.” Mickey chokes, teary-eyed and beside himself.</p><p>“Understandable.” the funeral director nods.</p><p>“Just the one casket.” Sandy clarifies.</p><p>“My condolences.” he nods.</p><p>“Thank you.” Sandy nods and once there outside, smoking their ninth cigarette of the day together, “c'mon let's go to the hospital, don't want him to wake up completely alone.” Sandy reminds Mickey.</p><p>Mickey just nods.</p><p>“Did you call Hunter?” Sandy presses.</p><p>Mickey just nods, allowing himself to break down, sliding down the siding of the side of the funeral home.</p><p>“He's really dead, Sands.” is all Mickey can choke out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I dont know if the end made it clear but, Terry is dead and either Iggy or Ian is too (thats why they need one casket Mickey dosent want anything to do with Terry's burial)</p><p>Ok...</p><p>Don't hate me... <br/>runs away...</p><p>let me know what you think</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Fine line- harry styles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Last chapter before the epilougue</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>things I am writing after this;<br/>-more chapters in my AU where Kev and Vee foster the younger Gallaghers<br/>-another drabble or two in the AU "Orange Alien" where Ian moves in as Mickey's boyfriend when Yev is about seven and it details the adjustment through his eyes<br/>-a one-shot of Iggy protecting little Ian as a continuation of something I mentioned in the previous chapter<br/>-hopefully an AU one day where Terry is dead so Svet and Yev never exists and the four Milkovich's live together and Mickey rescues Ian from being a stripper in boystown because he ran away from home like in canon, and the entire family become protective of him</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter 11 </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-------------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Gallagher’s to their credit, give Mickey the space he needs to grieve this loss on his own. No matter how the Gallagher’s were affected by the shooting, this was his cross to bear- for both Ian and Iggy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only person Mickey could even stand to see right now is Sandy because she didn't even try to make him talk. She just helped him pick out flowers, much like she did for his wedding, but for a much sadder occasion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It turns out, planning a funeral is much like planning a wedding. Chairs, service, food, after-party, limo, flowers, guests, suits, and so on. The only thing missing was a cake and a wedding dress to fool a homophobic old lady who owns a polka club They solemn have those at funerals these days. And Ian. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey hadn’t been to a funeral since his mom passed away. And that, much like this, was a drunken haze. But at least his dad had planned most of it. Now, he was ignoring planning his own father’s funeral. Terry was dead to Mickey, both emotionally and literally. Dead. Cremated. Will never touch Mickey again, but he still managed to take everything from Mickey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dead. Gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dead. Gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dead. Gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey didn't cope well with change. Mickey didn't cope well at all really. As he sat by the hospital bed, kicking his legs and drinking from a paper cup again, he realized he never did well with change.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had been with the same guy since he was sixteen-years-old. Ian Gallagher had been it for Mickey since the day that he showed up all teary-eyed crying because Monica had blown back in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey wouldn't even know how to start. There never was anybody else, and for Mickey there would never even  be anyone else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian Gallagher was tattooed on his chest, under his skin, and in his heart. Not just his heart, every cell in his body. He wasn't in it for the sex, or the freckles, and certainly not Ian’s cooking skills- he was in love with the very essence of Ian Gallagher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A splutter and tiny cough awakened Mickey from his trance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That's my cue.” Sandy salutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey moves cautiously closer to the hospital bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who, who who are you?” the voice in the bed croaks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Mickey’s heart stops circulating blood as the liquid in his veins sits limply frozen in place by the pure fear of this implication.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, a tiny giggle makes Mickey scowl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're not even remotely funny, Gallagher.” Mickey tries to growl, but his voice is cracking. He goes to pull Ian into a kiss, but Ian pulls his shirt collar, tugging Mickey onto the hospital bed with him and cradling Mickey to his side. Mickey just inhales Ian’s scent and tries to stop the flow of tears from leaving his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi angel.” Mickey whispers, stroking Ian’s cheek and cautiously turning his leg to avoid knocking into Ian’s bad leg.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mick.” Ian smiles, pulling Mickey’s hand off of his cheek to kiss his knuckles. Mickey tries to tug his hand back, but Ian is holding on too tightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So pretty.” Mickey praises softly gently stroking Ian’s hair for a few seconds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then it hit Mickey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The initial shock wore off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian survived a bullet to the chest. A second encounter with Terry nearly left him dead and the ginger pulled through. So why is Mickey’s heart broken still?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I dead?” Ian teases, giving Mickey a poke, “Because I must be in heaven if Mickey Milkovich is using me as a teddy bear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up fucker, I was so scared. Bullet through the fucking chest. And it missed all your vital organs. They gave it to me in a cup to keep. And then you napped for nearly a day after.``</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry being shot at gunpoint by my father-in-law for the second time took my energy away.” Ian laughs, loud and carefree. How can he be this happy? It almost feels selfish. Two bodies are dead and Ian is as happy as ever. Even happier than he was before getting shot in the chest. Does he even remember it? Mickey begins to feel paranoid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian-” Mickey starts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At least shooting me in plain sight will put him in jail for a long time.” Ian interrupts, snuggling Mickey closer and closer and whining when Mickey pulls away like he's been burned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mickkk, I was just shot and my leg is still in a full-legged cast. I think that earned me some head scratches at least.” he whines, holding his arms out and begging for comfort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey sits up and places his walls up and poker face on, not in the mood for cuddles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian how much do you remember from the shooting?” Mickey questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really just hitting the ground after he shot me, why?” he questions, tilting his head and starts to look anxious at the cold-look on Mickey’s face and the lack of physical contact between them. When Mickey realizes he's scaring Ian, he sighs and takes Ian’s hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, why, what happened?” Ian panics, breath increasing in shallow frequency.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ian, do you really not remember who else got shot? Terry and Iggy did.” Mickey says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry.” Ian stammers, looking panicked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, baby calm down.” Mickey soothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did they die?” Ian demands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes Ian, they are both dead. Iggy’s funeral is tomorrow. And Terry isn't having one.” Mickey tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry I'm so sorry.” Ian babbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What for?” Mickey questions, tracing Ian’s knuckles with his thumb and gently massaging the palm of his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I survived and Iggy didn't. Should have been me.” Ian whispers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Mickey barks, making Ian jolt up and his eyes widen. He takes Ian’s face in his to show him just how serious he was, “Don't you ever say shit like that again. I would have died with you asshole. You almost bled out in my arms, I thought you died in my arms. The happiest moment of my life is when the nurse told me you lived. Don't you ever regret that, Ian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay I'm sorry.” Ian quickly agrees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey lets out a long slow breath and lays back down with Ian, finally letting them cuddle like Ian wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Christ I love you.” Mickey whispers, his tears and Ian’s starting to blend together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.” Ian sobs, and they just hold each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey essentially kidnaps Ian from the hospital, but Ian was not about to miss Iggy’s funeral for a gunshot wound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip brings the funeral clothes up for Mickey and Ian. After a nice long shower in the hospital together, Ian turns on the television and combs through Mickey’s hair for longer than necessary just because Ian knew how good it feels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian’s got stitches and a dressing covering his wound, but it still is a little sore, especially because he was only shot less than twenty-four hours ago. And he still has the bulky cast on his knee and a limp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Mickey helps him to get dressed, and somewhere along the way, the light dimmed from Ian’s eyes as the implications of the day began to wear on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian had been fine all night. Not shy at all, begging for a “mutual quickie” in the hospital bed, and Mickey was in no position to refuse that offer. He showered with Mickey with no issue, and he didn't even have a nightmare in the nighttime.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But when Mickey was helping his pants on, it dawned on Ian and Mickey could see it clear as day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Mickey tried to lighten the mood by cracking jokes that would usually leave the younger man in stitches, but only made a small upturn of Ian’s lips. He even tried sneaking in a few tickles to Ian’s torso and neck while he was putting his dress shirt on and tying his tie, but even that only got a few half-hearted giggles from Ian that didn't fully reach his eyes the way that they normally would have. He didn't even try to push Mickey’s hands away playfully. All the confidence and playfulness from the previous day had vanished in an instant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey thought about asking what was wrong, but he already knew the answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he just let Ian be Ian, and didn't let go of Ian’s hand from the hospital to the graveyard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The funeral was nice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>None of Terry’s friends showed their faces.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few of Iggy’s did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But most of the chairs were filled by Gallaghers and Ball-Fishers. Mickey’s family. He doubted that Liam really cared about Iggy, but Liam showed up for Mickey.</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Tami couldn't even say Iggy’s full name, but she showed up for Mickey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iggy’s entire being went against Carl’s cop morals, but he showed up for Iggy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only people really mourning as hard as he was were Sandy and Ian, Colin had sent his regards. Noone has heard from Mandy in years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is what Iggy’s life boiled down to. Most of the people who cared to see him buried were his brother’s husband’s siblings and kids. Or his brother’s husband’s childhood neighbors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian doesn't speak a word, he just clutches onto Mickey’s hand and squeezes intermittently. Pushing Mickey’s head on Ian’s shoulder when he saw Mickey cry. Burying his head in his husband’s raven hair when he cried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one spoke any words as he was lowered. No eulogy. Sandy and Mickey couldn't find the right ones and Ian didn't want to find them. They all drank and threw handfuls of dirt on his mahogany casket, that a part of the money from the settlement had paid for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian got a settlement from Robert, the store, and his medical bills (minus the newest ones) were paid for by Robert. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lip stands with Tami as Fred babbles on Tami’s hip. Ian’s big brother and protector, while Mickey’s older brother  was in a casket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carl stands with Franny and Liam. The couple’s “surrogate” kids. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kev stands with Vee, Gemma, and Amy. The neighbors from heaven.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey stands in between Ian and Sandy, holding one hand each. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sandy doesn't cry. She’ll do that in private. Debbie’s coming home on Friday, and the excitement of that is calmed by Iggy’s death.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They meet Hunter, Mickey shakes his hand and Ian smiles shyly and waves his freehand, not in the mood to make friends. Thankfully, Hunter wasn't either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood in the back and cried to himself after offering his condolences. He had only known Iggy a small amount of time, but that time was everything to Hunter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People start to leave and drive away and Mickey let's go of Ian’s hand when talking to Lip.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ian whines lowly and gives Mickey a begging look with large puppy dog eyes, but Mickey ignores the red-head’s pleas and just soothes a hand up and down Ian’s arm. “Be right back E.” he promises, wanting to slip off to say thank you to Iggy’s friends, most of whom he hadn't seen since childhood.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice service.” Lip comments, Fred getting antsy but he's clearly stalling trying to spend time with Ian and not leave him alone.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm gonna bring Fred to the car.” Tami says and shoots Ian a sympathetic glance.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When she's out of sight Ian’s face drops, “Mickey told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I would have much preferred to hear it from you, but I appreciate you telling my husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He tell you anything else?” Lip fishes, feeling embarrassed at the prospect of his little brother knowing that he almost didn't stay with him for the money when Ian was giving him money.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, are you getting a dog too or something?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A dog, dog can we get a dog?” Franny cheers, as Carl, Liam, and Franny float over to the two eldest Gallagher brothers.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Franny, what did I tell you about volume today?” Carl chides as he scoops Franny up in his arms and settles her on his hip.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It's a sad day for Uncle Ian and Mickey, so I need to be quiet and respect-full-able for them and then I can get some ice-cream with the rainbow sprinkles from Lenny’s even if I don't eat all of my vegta-ables.” Franny recites.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ian feels a smile light up his face. “You were a perfectly behaved munchkin today.” Ian plants a kiss on top of her head, “I'll take you to get ice cream after this, two scoops even.” Ian smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Franny squeals.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Really.” Ian promises. “Let me go get Uncle Mickey and the three of us can go together and pick up some ice cream to bring back to the house for everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“With the rainbow sprinkles?” Franny asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course Franny girl.” Ian confirms, turning away and ruffling Liam’s hair as he wandered off in search of his husband.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, for someone who would be so pale in contrast to the dark gravestones, Micky was shockingly hard for Ian to find. Until he realized that Mickey was sitting, in front of a grey grave a few rows down.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mickey?” he calls, as he approaches the southside man who was sitting in front of a grave with his knees to his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mick?” he calls again, softer this time as Ian tries to scramble to match Mickey’s position with one bad leg.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The grave was marked “Milkovich, Laura- Beloved mother and wife.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Mick, sweetheart.” Ian sighs, throwing an arm around Mickey’s shoulders and pulling Mickey closer to him. Mickey slots his head against the crook of Ian’s neck and turns to bury his nose inside the crook of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss her.” is all Mickey can mumble.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know Mick, I know.” Ian coos, letting Mickey lean all of his weight on his body. He rubs up and down Mickey’s spine with his fingertips, tracing heart shapes and planting random kisses to the top of Mickey’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so fucking much Firecrotch.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you more Mick.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--------------</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Later, when they are changed and eating ice cream with Franny at an ice-cream shop, Mickey feels lighter.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Franny’s high-pitched squealing about what cookies Ian would bake with her for her mom’s “home from jail” party (A Gallagher special), Mickey thought of something.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, Ian Debbie’s not going to be able to live with us. You can't live with other felons on house arrest.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sandy wanted to move into your old house anyways. It's open and you hate it there anyways.” Ian reminds him.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah but what about Franny?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what about me?” Franny demands, suddenly feeling left out.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well Franny girl, your mommy, Sandy, and you will probably move into Uncle Mickey’s old house.” Ian explains softly.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“With you guys right?” Franny questions.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but we’ll see you at family dinners like when we see Lip and Freddie.” Ian supplied, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't want to live without you guys. Mommy can go live with Sandy.” Franny declares petulantly. She had been living with the pair for almost a year. And five year olds hold grudges.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn't there some kind of rule that felons can't adopt?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, and she wouldn't be adopting Franny, we only have temporary custody, Mick. Reunification was always the goal.” Ian reminds him.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't want it to be.” Franny whines, “Mommy’s bedtime stories aren't like Uncle Ian’s” Franny cries. Mickey tenses up, hating when she gets like this.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Franny, Ian and I will always be there with you. But your mommy has missed you for a really long time.” Mickey reminds her.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Whose bed am I going to go into when I have a bad dream?” Franny cries, “And Uncle Mickey makes the best pancakes with the mouse ears on them.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That's the good thing about family Fran, you still love your mommy even though you didn't see her everyday, right?” Ian asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Franny nods.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We will always love you with both of our hearts, no matter where you are Franny. And we can call you and tell you a bedtime story every night, okay.” Mickey tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So you guys both will still love me if I go love with mommy again.” Franny confirms.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Always.” they say unison.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Now let's go get the ice cream for Carl and Liam home, little monster.” Mickey fake-growls.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>On the walk home, Ian’s got one of Franny’s hands, and Mickey has the other. They both swing her as she jumps to avoid cracks so she doesn't “break mommy’s back and then she stays in jail even longer”. Kids man.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When they reach the house, Franny runs in front of them into the door and Ian takes the opportunity to slip his hand in Mickey’s and interlace their fingers. Ian feels the cool of Mickey’s ring.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna get a new ring with me soon? My tan line is starting to grow out.” Ian comments.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey snorts, “Like you have a tan line.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously Mick?” Ian rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You always ruin every surprise you fucking pussy.” Mickey laughs, dragging Ian through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A million and one Gallagher’s throw questions at the pair, but Mickey just barks, “Not now.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls Mickey up to their shared room and shoves him on the bed, “Woah dude, buy a guy a drink first.” Ian chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mind out of the gutter, you carrot-top menace.” Mickey fake-growls as he digs through the under-wear drawer.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey comes back with a ziploc bag and gets down on one knee.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sandy had to give her ring-guy some good weed for this to get it done in one day. I wanna get us both better ones some day but, these are just for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mick, are you proposing?” Ian asks, getting teary eyed.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't cry you bitch, you proposed once, it's my turn. And we’re married so you better not turn me down carrots.” Mickey says poking at Ian’s good knee.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ian gives a teary giggle, “Never Mickey, you're my better h-”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey chatty-Cathy, I have the talking stick sit down and shut up. Ian Clayton Gallagher, you have seen, experienced, accepted, and embraced my crazy and every part of me and my past. I love you past, present, and future. You are it for me, no matter how many bullets you take, how many Bipolar episodes, how much whining you do, you're my person. I had Sandy make these from the bullet the doctor gave me, well really her ring guy made them, but here gimme your fat fingers. One for me and one for you, they say I and M inside.” Mickey says, pulling out two silver rings and sliding the larger one onto Ian’s freckled ring finger.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect.” Mickey praises, kissing the freckles fingers in his grasp until the corners of Ian’s mouth ticked into a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay married to me?” Mickey asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I tricked you into marrying my crazy ass Mick, never letting you go.” Ian jokes, “Your mine, always Mick. Since you peed on a base in Little League. We’ve been to prison, the dugouts, Kash and Grab, fucking Mexico together, You've been there for every stage of my life. You know me more than me. We’re fucking soulmates. There was never a doubt in my mind.” Ian proclaimed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they fall onto the bed, as one. A ring on each of their fingers. United as one, as they were meant to be from the very begging. The very bullet that almost broke them apart, uniting them together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mickey Milkovich didn't know much about poetry, but that was damn near poetic as he ever wanted to get.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Leave a comment, it will make my day. Anything you want adressed in the epilougue? Last chance</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. basic instinct- the acid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Epilogue :)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we go, get your popcorn!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> c13</p><p>Epilogue-</p><p> </p><p>Debbie Gallagher got out four days after Iggy Milkovoch was buried. The four day gap between the events led to much craziness during the hectic transition between burying one with and re-welcoming one home. A brother gone and a sister back.</p><p> </p><p>As a Gallagher does when one Gallagher gets out of prison, they throw a party. They bust out the “welcome home from prison” banner and tell the baker to make their regular prison homecoming cake. </p><p> </p><p>Debbie coming home was emotional for everyone. She didn't even see Ian at his worst, and as soon as she saw him she burst into tears.</p><p> </p><p>Her older brother so soft and hurting. A bullet ring around his knuckles. All scared and bruised and traumatized. </p><p> </p><p>Debbie Gallagher cried when she saw Ian and threw her arms around his neck. If she hadn't been in prison, that would have been her too. </p><p> </p><p>“Should have been me too.” Debbie had sobbed.</p><p> </p><p>“Shouldn't have been anyone and it won't be ever again. He's dead.” Ian had reminded her.</p><p> </p><p>“But the other guy isn't.” Debbie had sobbed.</p><p> </p><p>And the other guy wasn't dead. On the first of every month, a nice check came from Robert to Ian, written with a smiley face in the memo.</p><p> </p><p>Robert was on house arrest. Same as Debbie. Except he was in a penthouse. Debbie had sex with a seventeen-year-olf at age nineteen and Robert had helped kidnap, torture, and assualt a man based on his sexual orientation. Same length of house arrest- some justice system. </p><p> </p><p>Debbie, Franny, and Sandy did move into the old Milkovich house after all. Franny still makes Mickey and Ian call her every night at bedtime for a bed-time-story. Her moving out was rough on everyone, but it was for the best for her to be reunited with her mother and for Mickey and Ian not to push for custody when she has a loving mom willing and able to care for her.</p><p> </p><p>Franny moving out prompted Mickey and Ian to encounter on a scary journey with lots of background checks and paperwork for Mickey to fake a grin and bear. Liam was finally getting adopted. For real this time. Frank and Fiona both relinquished their rights to Liam in the end. </p><p> </p><p>Mickey Milkovich was finally in a courtroom for reasons that didn’t end in incarceration or extended felony charges. A bipolar ex-con and a ex-con in for attempted-murder, as a gay couple, was a tough sell at first. But Mickey and Ian put in the hours and proved their worth. Eventually, with testimonies from parole officers, Kev and Vee, Liam’s teachers, Liam, Fiona, Lip, Carl, Debbie, and even Frank was able to be bribed into it, the adoption was finally granted. </p><p> </p><p>About a month after Liam’s adoption was finalized, Carl sat down in front of Ian and Mickey, who were cuddled up on the couch watching “The Conjuring”, more or less hiding in each other’s shoulders, neither wanting to admit the movie was scaring them. Carl sat down in front of them with shaky hands, a pale face, and a tattered and worn piece of paper that was clearly well-used in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“I have something serious to ask you guys.” Carl had stammered.</p><p> </p><p>“If you got a girl pregnant, I'm not helping you pay for an abortion.” Mickey growls, chucking a piece of popcorn at Carl, who was blocking the movie.</p><p> </p><p>Ian elbows Mickey, “Mick!”</p><p> </p><p>“What, we’re not.” Mickey shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>“Go ahead.” Ian grants, his head lying on Mickey’s shoulder and their hands collapsed together under the fluffy white blanket.</p><p> </p><p>“I wanted to ask if, well considering how you really helped raise me, and how I am over eighteen. This is more for emotional stability shit and knowing that I have parents even though mine will never show up, well I was wondering if um.” Carl starts, unsure and stuttering, not meeting either of their eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“If what C?” Ian asks patiently.</p><p> </p><p>“You'd consider an adult adoption. I know you might think it's tsupid. It's not a big a deal as Liam’s, and there's no need to prove yourselves or get signatures or consent for this one since I'm almost nineteen-”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop!” Mickey barks.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit I knew it was stupid sorry.” Carl’s cheeks grow red.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey throws another piece of popcorn at him, “Of course we would moron.” Mickey smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Carl asks, eyes lighting up.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you deserve as much security as Liam does. I know we didn't really have parents growing up and we got tossed around like hot potatoes, but you deserve that Carl. We’d be honored that you’d want to. You’re such a great kid.” Ian praises.</p><p> </p><p>“I've known Mickey so long that you guys have always kind of looked out for me. I just want a piece of paper that says that.” Carl explains.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I get that.” Mickey promises.</p><p> </p><p>“We love you brother/son.” Ian smirks, pulling him in for a hug. So the couple learned how to adult-adopt and they were currently in the process of it. Lip tried to make a joke about how Mickey is going to adopt Ian too now, and Mickey nearly dropped him for it. He understood where Carl was coming from more than Lip ever would. Lip now had security and so did Ian and Debbie. They made their own families. Carla and Liam are still a little young for that.</p><p> </p><p>Now Ian, three months post-gunshot, sat lying down on a table. Green hoodie on, as he scrolled lazily over his phone.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay there, vampire.” Mickey teased, cutting jokes about how pale Ian was under the harsh iridescent lights of the tattoo parlor.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey booked Ian as his last appointment of the day, adn stretched what should have been a twenty-minute tattoo into an hour one.</p><p> </p><p>He took his time with Ian’s tattoo. Instead of just moisturizing and shaving his knuckle, Mickey spent the time to gently massage Ian’s hand and warm him up to the touch. He gently rubbed his hand over Ian’s forearm and they talked absent-mindedly.</p><p> </p><p>The tattoo was simple enough, but Mickey went slow, not wanting to see any pain on Ian’s face. Ian laid there, without complaint, on his side as Mickey had his hand on the tray near his hand. Even with two gloves on and having to hold Ian’s hand in place, Mickey still stroked Ian’s skin with his thumb while he did it.</p><p> </p><p>Homemade sure to turn the radio up loud, but Ian didn't seem to mind the tattoo-pain or the buzzing of the needle.</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect.” Ian smiles all white and toothy.</p><p> </p><p>“Just about done here, sweetheart.” Mickey promises, “Then I’ll put wrap on it and when we get home we can wash with warm water, Then it's-”</p><p> </p><p>“I've gotten a tattoo one before.” Ian laughs.</p><p> </p><p>“Not like this one. And the boobs shouldn't even count. And I doubt they made Phillip Gallagher do aftercare in basic training.” Mickey smirks, but he brings Ian’s hand to his face and kisses his knuckle, right above the tattoo. </p><p> </p><p>“All done.” Mickey says softly.</p><p> </p><p>“I love it, it's perfect Mick. You're so talented.” Ian gushes. It had been a while since he had been in the studio, usually only coming to drop off a pick-me-up-coffee or some cigarettes when Mickey runs out. The redhead had been subsided by all the doodles and sketches Mickey had added to his wall. And all of the pictures of them or candids Mickey took of Ian. Mickey even had a picture of Ian and himself with Franny, Liam, and Carl. And a family photo from Liam’s adoption day. Mickey was truly free and declared his love for the world to see.</p><p> </p><p>“Now you're under my skin forever, but you always were.” Ian chuckles, gazing at the tattoo of “MM 11.26.20” in Mickey’s handwriting, rather than computer generated font. The tattoo wrapped around his ring finger like a ring. And he would happily switch the bullet-ring to his other hand while this finger was heeling.</p><p> </p><p>“Cheesy bitch.” Mickey rolls his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“You ready to get out of here?” Ian asks.</p><p> </p><p>“One thing first.” Mickey promises and then opens the door of his room to call into the hallway, “Jeremy, get in here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your boss?” Ian asks, sitting up in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, he said he’d help me with something, shove over.” Mickey commands, pushing Ian off of the tattoo chair and whipping off his shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Ian blinks. </p><p> </p><p>Jeremy saunters in with an iPad and hands it to Ian with a stylus. “Sign this.” Jeremy commands, the screen blank save for the silhouette of a bald eagle in flight. Ian signs his name and Jeremy yanks the iPad from him, fidgets with it and the printer in the corner of the room whirs.</p><p> </p><p>Jermey makes quick work of prepping Mickey’s skin and before Ian can even process it, what he just signed is on Mickey’s back on his right shoulder blade.</p><p> </p><p>“Mick.” Ian stammers.</p><p> </p><p>“You're getting a crash course in tattoo-ing Gallagher. You didn't want me to coverup my Ian Gay-lagher tattoo, so I figured I'd just get a second one. But I want you to help this time, Jeremy is going to literally hold your hand through it, but I want this one to come from you.”</p><p> </p><p>“A<a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=partners+name+tattoo+shoulder&amp;source=lnms&amp;tbm=isch&amp;sa=X&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiw8--S5JfvAhVDs54KHfqoAwYQ_AUoAXoECA4QAw&amp;biw=768&amp;bih=684#imgrc=_aue5cwnKgOEaM">nd the bald eagle</a>.” Ian gapes.</p><p> </p><p>“Ode to yours. Like I've been saying all along, you make me free ginger. Now get some ink in me.” Mickey commands.</p><p> </p><p>Jeremy holds Ian’s hand firmly so that he isn't really actually tattooing, and even if his hand shakes, Jeremy’s still won't, but it's still pretty cool. And the tattoo looks good. Really good.</p><p> </p><p>Jeremy let's Mickey lock up because it's late and he wants to get home to his spouse, so naturally the boys can't resist staying a little longer to fool around and then sterilize the entire work area.</p><p> </p><p>Both boys, now with new declarations of love for each other, and a happy sense at heart, walk home hand in hand down the streets. They mutually decided not to take the “L” because it's such a nice night out and neither one of them have felt this content in a long time to just be together and in love with no other contributing factors. It's about eight thirty and the sun is fully set as they stroll down the streets of Chicago for their thirty-minute walk home.</p><p> </p><p>The neighborhood they are in is a tad nicer with restaurants and barbers. Ian notes a coffee place he wants to try one day. Mickey says no day like today and they share a coffee together as they continue to stroll home through the quiet neighborhood.</p><p> </p><p>They pass a new restaurant with bright fairy lights on the outside that Ian can't help but look at, and Mickey can't help but stare at Ian staring at the lights.</p><p> </p><p>It's not until they pass the restaurant completely and both of them look forward that they see him. Standing in plain clothes. On the Southside where he has no business being. Robert. Frozen in the middle of the foot traffic staring at Ian. Ian can't help but halt as his eyes go wide.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey stops for a second too, because this is a recurring nightmare that he has all of the time coming true.</p><p> </p><p>Robert has the audacity to wink at Ian. Like Ian is a freshman that a closeted senior on the football team thinks is cute. The same cocky smile and arrogance.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey asshole!” Mickey starts, shoving forward instantly.</p><p> </p><p>Ian grips his arm and pulls him back, “Please don't, I need you here with me not behind bars.” Ian begs, eyes so wide that it reminds Mickey of how wide and begging his eyes were when Ian begged Mickey to come see him after Monica tried to take Liam.</p><p> </p><p>If it wasn't for that look, Mickey would have for sure ripped the throat out of the guy that assaulted Ian. But one look at those eyes, and Mickey knows it's not worth it. To throw his life away when Ian so clearly needs and wants Mickey with him. And Mickey needs him too.</p><p> </p><p>“There's a restraining order. Violate it again and I'll have your ass fucking buried.” Mickey grumbles, dragging Ian past the frozen man.</p><p> </p><p>“Take care.” Robert shouts.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey spins on his heel, fiddling with his pockets, “Hey go fuck yourself man. You’re a fucking convicted rapist stalking someone who has a restraing order on you. What'd you seek him out for huh? Hasn't he been hurt enough?”</p><p> </p><p>“I'm just walking and checking out the… scenery.” Robert sneers, glazing Ian up and down suggestively. And by now they are causing a scene.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don't you check out my fist in your face!” Mickey growls. And suddenly Ian is in between him and Robert.</p><p> </p><p>“Mick, let's go. Not fucking worth it.” Ian pleads.</p><p> </p><p>“Not till he admits that he came here just to stalk Ian.” Mickey shouts.</p><p> </p><p>“How would he even know where we are?” Ian questions.</p><p> </p><p>“Lucky guess from the tattoo shop where you guys both posted getting tattoos.” Robert shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>“So you stalked us for what?”: Mickey growls.</p><p> </p><p>“Not many redheads are as pretty as this one. Real fucking eye candy. Care to go again, Ian?” Robert licks his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey forcefully turns Ian around, “Thank you, asshole.” Mickey smiles and blows a kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck?” Ian blurts.</p><p> </p><p>“I got that on recording. Totally incriminating. Remind me to send that to our lawyer tonight.” Mickey smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“No jail time?” Ian asks.</p><p> </p><p>“No jail time, not leavin you again baby. Had to make sure you were safe though.” Mickey explains, carding a hand through Ian’s hair as they continue their walk, all the happiness devoid.</p><p> </p><p>Once they were a little closer to South Wallace, Ian’s heart rate slowed again and he gained what little color he normally has back.</p><p> </p><p>When they get home, Mickey fixes leftovers for everyone and the amount of Gallaghers living in the house has reached an all time low. Just four of them at the dinner table.</p><p> </p><p>They read Liam’s report, iron Carl’s shirt for him, do some laundry while watching television, take a shower, wash their tattoos and apply cream, and finally FaceTime Franny for her bedtime story. </p><p> </p><p>Ian looks pretty tired out, so Mickey doesn't fight him when he wants to turn in early and smoke a joint while watching television together. Ian puts his head in Mickey’s lap for some head scratches and Mickey loses his train of thought while his fingers card through the silky ginger strands.</p><p> </p><p>Ian lets out a long yawn.</p><p> </p><p>“Gettin pretty tired here, sleepyface huh?” Mickey teases, scratching Ian behind the ears. Ian sighs at the contact and Mickey can't help but snicker.</p><p> </p><p>“You're like a big orange puppy.” Mickey laughs.</p><p> </p><p>“Thought I was a teddy bear or an alien or a vam-” Ian gets cut off by a yawn.</p><p> </p><p>“You're everything Ian. My everything.” Mickey smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“Love you.” Ian slurs.</p><p> </p><p>“You're alright yourself carrots. Get up here.” Mickey motions to the pillow next to him.</p><p> </p><p>Ian flops up and curls his long limbs around Mickey, head winding up resting under Mickey’s armpit as Mickey’s arm curls around him, fingertips stroking his arm.</p><p> </p><p>Ian plants a sleepy kiss on his lips. “G’night.” he slurs.</p><p> </p><p>“Night puppy.” Mickey says, an involuntary sad smile tugging at his lips before he adds, “I love you too.”</p><p> </p><p>If Mickey had been taught anything by this entire ordeal, it's that you can never say I love you too much because you never know when you won't have the chance to say it again.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey often finds himself wishing that on that fateful morning, he had grabbed Ian by the arm when Ian went to storm off and told him how much he loved him. But he knew that Terry was planning this. He had scouts all over the city looking for Ian. He would have done it one way or another.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey falls asleep at peace with himself for the first time in a long time.</p><p> </p><p>When Mickey wakes up at two in the morning, it's with an urgent sense. He has to pee. He has to pee so bad that it physically aches. He doesn't remember going yesterday before bed. Stupid ginger.</p><p> </p><p>That's when he notices the weight of Ian’s arms trapping him. But Ian isn't still and snoring sleepilly. He's restlessly squirming and whimpering as tears run down his face.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey gently scratches at Ian’s back, “Wake up E, just a dream.”</p><p> </p><p>Ian’s eyes shoot open and he instantly buries his head in Mickey’s chest.</p><p> </p><p>“He got you. He got you. He got you.” Ian sobs.</p><p> </p><p>“I know baby, I am right here.” Mickey assures him.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no he got you he got you.” Ian sobs.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian you have this dream all the time. I'm fine, you're fine, you're in my arms. Can you please roll over so I can pee. Okay? Then we can cuddle.” Mickey sighs, feeling the pressure in his bladder which is in no way helped by Ian’s weight on him.</p><p> </p><p>“No, please don't leave me. Please Mick.” Ian begs.</p><p> </p><p>“Not leaving. I'll be right back.” Mickey assures him.</p><p> </p><p>“No please please.” Ian sobs hysterically. Mickey feels annoyed and caught up in his bladder’s demands. He gently shoves Ian’s arms off.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian! I'm right here, let me fucking pee. You have the same goddamn nightmare all of the time. I'm fine, you're fine. I will be right back. Jesus fucking christ.” Mickey snaps.</p><p> </p><p>Ian looks like he was just bitchslapped. His tears pause and he looks at Mickey with the widest eyes Mickey has ever seen.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. Go pee.” he yelps.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus christ, don't be sorry. I'll be right back and we can talk about it. Shouldn't have yelled.” Mickey assures him as he dashes out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>A pee after that much build up is always satisfying. Mickey takes a second to wash his hands, and brush his teeth because his breath is already starting to bother him, and glance in the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>At that moment, Mickey looked like Terry. Same eyes. Same cheeks. His mom’s eyebrows but he saw that stare. Jesus christ. He wonders if Ian sees the resemblance sometimes. He must not if he can clutch onto Mickey like that. Like he's his lifeline. If Ian resembled Svetlana this closely, he doesn't think he'd be able to wake up from a nightmare and be instantly comforted like this.</p><p> </p><p>Guilt pours into Mickey’s bones.</p><p> </p><p>It only multiplies when Mickey walks back into the bedroom to realize that Ian cried himself out. Tiny pants of a sob still shaking his body.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey wraps his arms around Ian and breathes him in, promising to make it up to him in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey wraps his arms around Ian and breathes him in, promising to make it up to him in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>Except when Mickey wakes up at four in the morning, it's because his fingertips aren't finding the ginger furnace that usually sleeps next to him.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey bolts up in bed when he realizes that Ian isn't with him. Trying to remain calm because he knows that Ian sometimes gets a drink in the night, Mickey throws on shoes and bolts down the steps.</p><p> </p><p>Bathroom? No.</p><p> </p><p>Downstairs bathroom? No.</p><p> </p><p>Living room? No.</p><p> </p><p>Kitchen? No.</p><p> </p><p>Then Mickey notices the back door is ajar and Ian’s sneakers are missing from the pile by the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian?” he calls as he steps outside.</p><p> </p><p>“Down here.” Ian calls.</p><p> </p><p>Mickey looks down to see Ian laying on the grass, with a cigarette staring at the stars.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian, it's four in the morning.” Mickey observes.</p><p> </p><p>“Woke up again, couldn't sleep.” Ian admits as Mickey lies in the wet grass next to him. One of Ian’s arms wrap around Mickey’s shoulders and he passes Mickey his cigarette.</p><p> </p><p>“Nightmare?” Mickey asks.</p><p> </p><p>Ian shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don't be. Not your fault.” Ian promises, looking genuine.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I tell you something?” Mickey asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Always.” Ian answers confidently.</p><p> </p><p>“I spoke to Mandy today. She sounded good. Apologies for the weddings and funerals she missed, of course, but she called to ask me if you and I wanted to visit. She works at some Fortune 500 company and they gave her these two tickets to a Broadway show that she doesn't want. You can use them at any play any date you just have to book in advance. Says we can stay with her, she's got a two bedroom.” Mickey admits.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you want to go?” Ian asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe, if we could bring the boys.” Mickey says.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I go back to work next month, so this month is as good as any. See if you can get any more time off, and we can check with Carl, and Liam’s school schedule.” Ian agrees easily.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks for being so easy.” Mickey says.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you want to go, why complicate it?” Ian shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>“You think we could manage this? I mean we can both legally leave the state.” Mickey points out.</p><p> </p><p>“We would need to pack, call out of work for all three, check my meds supply, call Liam out and have him take work with him, book flights, a hotel room if both boys come because we’re not putting Mandy on her own couch.” Ian rattles off.</p><p> </p><p>“That's manageable.” Mickey nods.</p><p> </p><p>“God I haven't seen Mandy since she was an escort and we hid a body-” Ian trails off.</p><p> </p><p>“A what now?” Mickey glares.</p><p> </p><p>“Story for another day, resolved crime.” Ian says.</p><p> </p><p>“Speaking of resolved crime, I emailed the pictures to the lawyer. Says Robert will probably go to jail for violating the restraining order. He literally just got off house arrest.” Mickey says.</p><p> </p><p>Ian burst out laughing.</p><p> </p><p>“Ian?” Mickey questions.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm sorry just, he gets no jail time for kidnapping and raping me. But a restraining order? How fucked up is that?” Ian snickers.</p><p> </p><p>“Our lives are fucked, firecrotch.” Mickey agrees.</p><p> </p><p>“Woulndt do it any other way though because it brought me this.” Ian gestures around him.</p><p> </p><p>“This backyard or the grass dew?” Mickey asks.</p><p> </p><p>“No, you asshole. This life. My soulmate, two legal kids, off parole, planning a vacation.” Ian smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“Love you sweetheart.” Mickey smiles.</p><p> </p><p>Ian just snuggles closer and it dawns on Mickey that they are laying in the wet grass at four in the morning. They're gonna get pneumonia and die before New York. </p><p> </p><p>“You sure you're okay, E?” Mickey asks, looking into Ian’s bright green eyes as the moonlight makes his pupils almost glow. Mickey has never seen anything quite so incandescently emerald.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm perfect Mick.” Ian smiles. And for once, Mickey knows he is.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Final notes? I want to get a summary of my next big work "For Angles to Fly" out in the next two days.</p><p>Let me know what you though! Anything you think I should do different in the future?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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